Of a Note in a Cosmic Song; Part Three

by Nōnen Títi

  His leg was badly out of shape, but the skin was intact. Nini told him they couldn’t stay here; she’d go for help. She had not gone two steps when a second man called for her attention. He had ripped his hand open on something sharp and was holding it close to his shirt, which had turned red from lost blood. Nini had him sit down next to the farmer. It looked ugly; not only was a piece of his palm hanging off, but it was covered with mud. Nini ripped a clean-looking piece from his shirt and folded that to push the pieces of hand back together, but it turned bright red immediately. That was a good thing, because the wound would be clean, but it was bad because the bleeding was heavy and the man was already looking pale. Now what?

  She stood up to hold his hand high. Everybody seemed to be gathered near Circle Road, too far away to hear her yelling. Only once the farmer whistled on his fingers did two people come toward them. Nini told them she needed help getting her patients to the clinic, only to be told there was no more clinic left and that she might as well stay where she was.

  “Then find me some bandages, and water,” she said.

  They promised they’d do their best.

  How was she going to help those people in the middle of a field of mud? The only thing she had was the land itself. “Lie down,” she told the man with the bleeding hand. “No, the other way.” She helped him turn so his head pointed to the centre of town. He didn’t question her, which in itself wasn’t a good sign. “Whistle again; we need more help,” she begged the farmer.

  The only people who heard him were the two who’d just left. Nini wasn’t sure if they understood the sign language that was meant to get them to alert some others. Her attention was caught by a small girl, walking nearby, wet-through and crying. Once more, Nini looked to the farmer. Leaning on his elbow to support his weight he managed to get the child’s attention. “Are you lost?” he asked.

  The girl, only eight years old, told him her father was stuck under their home and was not answering.

  Nini draped her own coat around the wet child. “And your mother?”

  “She fell out when the river came.”

  A few more questions from the farmer revealed that the girl and her parents had lived on Second Street, and they had been swept away, house and all, in a flood. The child was unharmed.

  “Do you see all those people?” he asked her. “You need to go to them and tell them to come with you. Four people or more need to come. Two have to come here. The others will have to go with you to help your father. Think you can do that; get four people?”

  The girl nodded. He made her repeat his instructions and then she ran off, now with a goal. The farmer gave a running commentary on her progress. “She’s reached the crowd… She’s pointing this way… Yes, they’re coming… Someone else is hurt.”

  Behind the small group, another man came walking up. He was carrying a body.

  “Oh Bue.” Nini pulled the sleeve off the already-ripped shirt to tie the hand firmly. “Can you hold this?” she asked the farmer, who was in the opposite direction of the bleeding man. “Just press firmly and hold it higher than he is.”

  The child had the group of helpers divide up exactly as the farmer had told her. The two men assigned to them were alerted by the one carrying the body. Once they helped him, they came fast. The woman they brought was young, totally wet, almost blue, and lethargic. “I pulled her out of the water,” the man said.

  With trembling hands, Nini determined that the young woman was not injured, but hypothermic: way beyond shivering, her breathing was shallow and there was barely a pulse. Nini knew she must not panic, but she did anyway. She would lose these people. She had nothing, didn’t know anything – she wanted Mektar. “What’s her name?”

  “I have no idea,” the man answered, about to leave again.

  “Wait,” the farmer said. He explained to the three men that they needed runners and somebody would have to stay here and help Nini.

  “Okay, what do you need us to run for?” the wet man asked.

  Nini looked around and tried to sum up what she could think of. “Blankets – dry ones. Clothes, water, and heavy things… I don’t know, sandbags; a splint.”

  But the woman was cold through and through and wouldn’t stand a chance exposed like this. “I need shelter,” she called when they’d already turned. “Shelter and more help; the doctor.”

  She rubbed the cold woman as hard as she could, trying to swallow down the tears that ran down her face. The helper who had stayed behind was given the task of holding the bleeding hand and keep its owner alert. For a moment, it appeared another woman had joined them: She was wearing a veil so her face was covered, but it wasn’t Wana, and a moment later she was gone again. Nini concentrated on her patient. She started talking to her, trying to get through to the unconscious, which was the only part that could understand her right now.

  “Help is coming,” the farmer announced.

  To Nini’s relief, she noticed Maike among the group of people.

  “We’ve got a shelter,” Maike said, pointing north. “On Sixth Street. We’ll bring them in there.” She immediately took control, asked Nini who could walk and what to watch for. Within no time, two of the men picked up the farmer, and two more took the other man. “Can you carry her?” Maike asked the skinny boy who was left.

  “No problem,” he answered, and picked up the woman as if she weighed nothing. Along the way Maike ordered some more people to come and help out, so that by the time they reached the shelter, mats and blankets had also arrived. They were not exactly dry, but they would do.

  Three walls of this home were standing; the fourth lay flat on the ground nearby. The floor was covered with dried mud, but it was protected from the wind.

  “Okay, what else do you need?” Maike asked as soon as the three patients had been put down.

  “I need Irma.”

  Maike explained that Wana, Kala, and Irma had many casualties over on Third Street and could not come. Up north, Flori and Remko were equally busy.

  “Drinking water then, and more blankets… and women. I need women, Maike, to warm her up.”

  Nini sat down next to the cold woman to remove the wet clothing: The thick mud had plastered it to her body and the woman was heavy from lethargy. Nini’s own cold hands struggled with the buttons: She yanked at it. The news that Irma wouldn’t come had her afraid.

  Next to her, the boy dropped to his knees and started tearing the woman’s shirt. As he had carried her, he now turned her so Nini could pull off the rest of the clothing and roll her into the driest blanket they had. Maike left with the other helpers.

  “Try to rub her warm,” Nini told the boy when two more people came in, one of whom also hurt. Though this leg wound was superficial, she had nothing to cover or clean it with. She told him to sit down; water would arrive soon.

  Afraid every time she reached for their pulse that it wouldn’t be there, she went between the man with the bleeding hand and the cold woman. Please keep breathing, she begged in silence.

  Water arrived in a container taken from a home. The boy went around letting the people drink from his hands. Without being told, he then tore a piece of cloth into rags and soaked them to wet the woman’s mouth. Nini copied his example for the other man. The bleeding had eased, but he needed liquid.

  Maike walked in with two women she had pulled off the street. “What do they do?” she asked.

  Nini explained they’d have to get out of their own wet clothes and go under the blankets with the cold woman.

  “You’re kidding, right?” one of them said, ready to walk back out, but once again, Maike’s authority was heeded. Within minutes the cold woman was in the best place she could be and Nini could focus on cleaning the wounds with fresh water. The young helper went out with Maike.

  “How long will this take? This is kind of strange, you know,” one of the body-warmers said to Nini the moment Maike was gone.

  “I know, but it’s all we have.” She managed to convince th
em they were saving the woman’s life and it was the only way. They had to be patient: You could get cold very fast, but warming up took time.

  The hand didn’t start bleeding again when she cleaned it and the man expressed pain, which in his case was good. It would need stitching later, but for now she tied it again. The boy returned with a handful of plastic window covering, a cup for drinking, a battery lamp, and more rags. He filled the cup with water for Nini and attached the plastic to the hooks that had previously held the missing wall panel. Another delivery was made: dry clothing.

  Only when the man with the bleeding hand was capable of holding the cup himself to drink from did Nini finally relax a little. With the increased amount of people and the plastic sheet to keep the wind out, the room had become warmer. The hypothermic woman responded a little when given a rag to suck on. Now Nini worried about the farmer. His leg would need setting. She needed Irma for that, and he needed painkillers. When Maike returned Nini told her so.

  Maike explained that they were moving people to the landers. The entire centre of town was buried in a thick layer of mud. Most people there had been clever enough to leave the area when the water started rising, but on the northwest side people had been surprised when the river suddenly burst from the mountain. They had many deaths and even more unaccounted for. Remko and Flori had been up there without shelter, so Maike had organized to move them first. Now Kun was setting, so Nini would have to make do in here until light returned. The boy was ordered to stay with Nini and do whatever he was told.

  He grinned under his mud-covered hair. “Even if what she wants is inappropriate?”

  Maike gave him a tap on the head and left. Nini had to keep convincing the two body-warmers to wait a little longer, but the woman’s limbs seemed to be warming, even if the colour was indistinguishable in this light. The boy went out once more, saying he’d have a last look around, and came back with a handful of painkillers Irma had given him. Nini gave the farmer one and promised he’d be okay. Once more, she checked all her patients. She’d be all right now. She’d made it through this chaos… somehow.

  The boy laughed away her gratitude for helping. “No problem. It got me out of my cell.” He waved his hand around the room. “Only, I’m still here.”

  For the first time Nini realized that the windows here had been barred, as had the door. She recognized the boy from SJilai. “What’s your name?”

  “Leyon. I thought they’d forgotten, you know, when the storm came in and there was no place to go. Did they let Thalo out too?”

  “Yes,” the man with the cut leg answered him.

  “Shame. She should have let him drown.” Leyon proudly recalled the reason for his detention in front of his homeless and injured audience: “I tried to kill him, you know, but he got help from some friends, so I was outnumbered.”

  About an hour into the darkness, Irma and Kala came in, each carrying a lamp. They had left Wana with the remaining patients on Third Street. Irma did a quick check of the people in the room. She had brought some stiff bandages to immobilize the farmer’s leg; it wasn’t a cast, but it would have to do. She asked Leyon to take the plastic sheeting down and cut strips of it to fill with mud: They would be thick enough to support his leg for transport, but first it would have to be put back into its proper position.

  Even with the tablet, he was in pain when Irma’s hands checked the break. “Come here,” she said, and had Nini also have a feel. Irma explained where the bone was broken and how she would have to pull and reposition it.

  Only then did Nini realize that she was expected to do the setting. “But I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can. He’s your patient,” Irma answered.

  Nini hated being put on the spot like that. She’d seen it done only once when she was still training; too long ago to remember anything. What she did remember was that there were arteries nearby and a nerve which could get damaged with the sharp edges of the break.

  “I can do it, if you want,” Kala offered, when Nini repeated that she couldn’t.

  “I know you can; that’s why Nini has to do it,” Irma answered.

  Nini looked at the man who’d been so brave all this time. He had helped her out with everybody else and not once complained. Suppose she did something wrong and hit the artery? He’d die right in front of her. She could never live with that. She pleaded again for Irma to do it so she could watch.

  “No, this bone should have been set as soon as possible, Nini. This time I was streets away. Next time there will be nobody. You will be alone. We have no anaesthetics, no x-rays, no surgery. You either do it or he’ll never walk again.”

  For the second time Nini felt panic take over, as did the need to cry from the reprimand about having left it too long. She’d thought she’d managed in the end, but she hadn’t. She’d never catch up. She was no doctor or nurse. She should have never tried. She knew nothing. When she noticed everybody watching her she stood up and ran out of the shelter. She just wanted to go home, if only there was a home to go to.

  “Nini.”

  She tried to turn away, but Irma had her by the arm. “You have to go back in there and do this.”

  “I can’t!” Nini no longer tried to hide the tears. She let them come freely hoping Irma would relent.

  “You can and you must. You have no more choice than I have.”

  Nini shook her head, determined that she would not let Irma talk her into this. She could stand here all night if she wanted.

  But Irma didn’t try to talk. She took a firm grip of Nini’s arm and pushed her in the back. “Get in there and set that leg. This is an emergency situation.”

  Having not expected this, Nini didn’t resist the pushes. She felt like a user again, ordered to move, unable to refuse, incapable of arguing. She couldn’t stop the tears.

  “Now take a hold of his foot,” Irma said when they were inside. She pushed Nini down beside the man and told her where to hold and which way to pull. “Take it and go slow. Forcefully, but no sudden moves.”

  Nini could barely see the leg from the tears. She tried to avoid the farmer’s eyes.

  “Go on; I won’t say a word, even if it hurts,” he promised.

  Kala took the other side of his leg and sat down to hold it back. With Irma behind her, Nini did as she was told and started pulling to slowly separate the bones. “Keep going; it will take time,” Irma said.

  In the meantime she informed the farmer of the how and why of this exercise. As the minutes went, the farmer repeated what had happened to him and what had happened since. He also introduced himself – one of the little things that had been forgotten during the panic.

  “Well, Kolyag, we will try and put it straight now,” Irma said. She instructed Nini on how to hold the leg. “Don’t force it. Two hands; gentle.” One step at a time, Nini followed Irma’s orders. She could feel what Irma said she would. Then the farmer howled anyway, just for a moment, and immediately apologized for it.

  “I’m sorry,” Nini sobbed.

  Very slowly, Kala let go. Nini could feel it was okay. The foot stayed in the right position… only now it seemed to hurt an awful lot more.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again.

  Irma checked the position and nodded. After that she did nothing but give instructions until the leg was securely covered with a bit of blanket cut by Leyon and wrapped with the mud slices in plastic and bandages. Nini kept saying sorry every time Kolyag winced, but it got done. Irma gave him another painkiller and released the two women from their warming up duty. They didn’t need to be told twice and left in the dark. The rest of them sat out the night. The cold woman was conscious and would most likely be able to keep her legs. His hand would need repair, but the man was stable for now.

  Irma summed up the losses: The clinic itself, bandages, antiseptics, analgesics, all tools… everything was buried under the mud. They’d have to start looking for alternatives. “Even if we manage to dig it out it’ll be useless. I rescued what I could
when we had to leave for the water, most of which we needed right away. We should not have kept it all in one place,” she said.

  “What if there are no alternatives? If even plants don’t seem to exist here?” Kala asked.

  “Then people will die. Maybe not even just a few. We have to be prepared for that. It may take a whole generation or more before we even have a clue what we’re doing. We have to start from nothing and we won’t always win.”

  Irma looked at Nini. “I know I was being hard on you just then, but you can’t hide from this, Nini. We have nobody else to turn to here. All we have is ourselves and whatever we can take off the land. I get scared too; we all do. People need to be strong and healthy to survive this place. The first need is good food and water.”

  “But even that is not available,” Leyon said. “All the stored food is ruined and the well is full of mud.”

  “And not everybody is strong,” Kala added.

  “No, most people are not,” Irma agreed. They’d been pampered on DJar, with no need for any physical resistance. A mild climate, heated homes, clean drinking water, prepared food; everybody had been pumped full of anti-bacterial agents and vitamins, which consequently were no more than a gesture. The body’s own defence systems had atrophied as an unused muscle would. Nature had been locked away in parks. Everybody had run to a doctor or other professional if something small came up rather than think for themselves. “Artificial life,” Irma said. “We were no longer part of nature on DJar.”

  “In that case, the best job to have in this colony is gravedigger,” Leyon said, causing a short silence.

  Nini wondered about that boy. He had managed very well in thinking for himself, as had the farmer. She recalled Freberer; not everywhere on DJar had it been that bad.