“Margo, take a break.” Kyle took my shaking hands. “Now, are you sure you’re not hurt?”
“M’fine...” I mumbled. “M’wearing this stupid vest... Bane should’ve had it on...”
Sister Krayj crouched in front of me, examining my chest with her red torch.
“I don’t think so, Brown Bird. Look at your jacket.”
I watched blankly as she poked her finger through three separate holes in the fabric. Didn’t seem very important – I turned back to Bane. Fox Two and Gerbil were replacing the pad.
“Why doesn’t the bleeding stop?” I asked thinly.
“Well, it’s quite a large hole,” said Fox Two softly, glancing my way.
“Merciful Lord, Margo!” said Kyle behind me. “There’s another hole in the back of your jacket, are you sure you’re okay? What’s all this blood here?”
“Bane’s...” I muttered.
“No, not Bane’s...” He poked at the top of my right arm in the light of Sister Krayj’s torch. “You’re bleeding.”
“Well, it’s obviously not serious...”
“Look, let me put a bandage on it...”
“Sit still, Brown Bird, and let us check you over,” ordered Sister Krayj. “If you hadn’t noticed that little hole, there could be more.”
“Look after Bane.”
“We can’t do anything that isn’t already being done. Now, sit still.”
They poked and prodded me thoroughly and Kyle put a bandage over the nick in my arm. I hardly noticed. Too busy watching Fox Two with mounting terror – his fingers went to the pulse on Bane’s neck every few minutes, now.
Eventually he caught me watching.
“It’s okay, Margo. Whether his pulse is elevated or depressed gives some idea of how he’s doing, that’s all. We’ll be at the harbour in a quarter of an hour, now.”
Oh, thank you Lord that we decided to work our way around the Italian coast for these carbon copy raids, rather than striking inland. And we were fairly near the bottom of Italy, so the trip back to Gozo would be comparatively quick. Hang on, Bane... Hang on...
Everything became one long, lurching, endless nightmare. Hang on, Bane. Hang on, Bane. Glimpses over the tailgate. The Forest was gone. We drove along a coast road. Hang on, Bane. Cliffs rose on either side of the road behind us. Hang on, Bane. We pulled to a halt. The guys leapt out...
“I want him strapped down on this stretcher before we move him again,” Fox Two was saying. “Let’s just slide him over – keep him straight – one, two, three... Right.”
The stretcher was passed carefully down, Bane still unconscious like a huge doll. The blood was black and wet in the moonlight.
“Keep him straight?” Fox Two’s words belatedly filtered into my brain as they carried him to the single speedboat waiting discretely hidden by the jetty in case of such a disaster. “Why?”
Fox Two glanced my way, the stretcher safely settled along the seats.
“Oh... s’just, the bullet hasn’t come out. Takes some bone density to stop a round of that calibre – it could be lodged in his spine. Best not bend him around like a corkscrew until the thing’s been located and removed, hmm?”
Another wave of iciness swept over me. But he’d made it to the bushes, with help... So just a precaution, right?
“Brown Bird, Gecko, Fox Two, onto Speedy One,” said Sister Krayj, “The rest of you – I’ll let Speedy Two know we need pick up ASAP – I want volunteers to wait here with me for that – lighten the load.”
Everyone else immediately volunteered to wait. They got down behind some rocks and the boatman – Raphael? – began to cast off. As the speedboat leapt forward towards the open ocean the truck was manoeuvring in behind some sort of harbour shack and a large pile of fishing equipment. Oh... trying to hide. Speedy Two – waiting out of sight of shore – could be half an hour away, even if they opened the throttle all the way – the boat for the truck – waiting even further off, out of range of shore radar – could be an hour away, easily. Waiting was dangerous...
“We should take them all with us,” I said hoarsely to Raphael.
He just opened the throttle wider and nodded towards Bane.
“Your boy needs a doctor.”
Bane looked so ghastly in the moonlight the seventeen other people dropped out of my mind like a brick in the ocean. I sat beside him and held his hand as we raced along – even that was tacky with drying blood. Fox Two looked grimmer and grimmer, and my heart beat harder and harder, pounding against the walls of a chest that already felt crushed.
“It’s going to be okay, Margo.” Kyle was rubbing my back. “S’going to be okay...”
Fox Two shot him a look as though he wasn’t sure this was a good thing to promise... No, Lord, please? Please... Things slid into a haze of screaming engines, jouncing boat and Bane’s pale, pale face, cheek jammed against the seats, unable to hear me...
Bane, Bane, Bane, please hang on, please...
Lord? Please, please...
“Gozo.”
Raphael’s voice jerked me from my daze. How long had we been travelling? There... A black speck on the dark horizon. I stared and stared at it as though the sheer force of my gaze could draw it closer...
Then we were in the harbour and Raphael was slewing the boat around and cutting the engine and letting it come to rest against the jetty, which was lit up by the headlights of several jeeps… Yes, oh yes, the entire Citadel medical staff... a team of Swiss Guards... yes, yes, quick...
I scrambled desperately after them as Bane’s stretcher was rushed away, trying not to be left behind. My legs were like rubber – I couldn’t seem to walk in a straight line. After running – shambling – the length of the jetty my head dissolved, my legs disappeared all at once, and I found myself kneeling on the boards, clutching a post to stay upright – Bane was being carried towards a waiting jeep...
Try to get up, or crawl?
“Margo, are you okay?” Kyle.
“Fine. Fine... Bane...”
“Right.” He crouched in front of me, presenting his back. “Climb on, then...”
I shifted my grip from the post to his shoulders and climbed aboard, flinching as my chest pressed against his back. Definitely something wrong with my chest.
Where was Bane?
“We have to get in the next jeep, Margo,” Kyle was telling me. “There’s not space in that one. Don’t worry, we’ll be right behind them.”
He unloaded me carefully into the back of a vehicle – I swayed, leant against the back rest and gasped in pain – my back was no better.
“Is she all right?” A familiarly flat voice from beside me. Apparently I looked as out of it as I felt.
“I’m guessing her ribs have taken a hell of a pounding, but she’s only got one small hole.” Kyle squeezed in on my other side. “You’d better keep away from me for a bit or I may just kiss you on each cheek for insisting on that thing.”
“I wish we had one for all of you. But they’ve never been standard issue for the guards.”
“Yeah, well, they cost a fortune, don’t they?”
“It’s not the cost, they’ve just never been necessary. I wonder if we could find a warehouse and nick some – put it on the tab as well...”
I tuned out again, eyes fixed on the jeep in front.
When Kyle arrived at the medical wing, panting, with me on his back again, Sister Mari and a pale-faced Jon stood outside the door of the little operating room. The basics we’d arrived with had been gradually supplemented by shipments from Africa, thank God and Eduardo’s foresight, so by now we had a thoroughly equipped medical centre.
“Who’s that?” Jon’s nose twitched, foiled by all the blood and dirt.
“Margo and Deacon Kyle,” said Sister Mari.
“Where’s Bane?” I gasped. Pressed to Kyle’s back like this, breathing was a serious problem.
Jon hurried towards my voice, in comfort or to fend me away from the door?
“They’
re operating, Margo, we have to wait out here for a bit. The bullet is still in there and they have to get it out and get the wound all closed up and everything. It’s in a tricky position by the spine so they’re going to have to be very careful – could take some time.” Information, bless you, Jon...
Jon’s hand found Kyle’s stubbly chin.
“Margo? Where are you?”
“On my back. Where’s a chair... ah, good.” Kyle lowered me carefully into it; I rested my elbows on my knees, fighting for breath.
“Is she hurt? Margo? Are you hurt?” Jon was at my shoulder at once.
“Fine,” I managed.
“One minor bullet hole and bruised or cracked ribs,” Kyle told Jon. “She took four bullets to that vest, thank God the thing worked.”
“Oh, praise the Lord!” Face paling even more, Jon knelt in front of me and found my hands, pressing them gently. “You’re okay?”
“Oh, for pity’s sake!” I wheezed. “Bane’s in there fighting for his... for his... and Father Mark’s lying back there with a... with a bullet... and all you lot can do is ask me if I’m okay!”
Jon went on rubbing my hands soothingly.
“Yes, but there’s nothing we can do for them right now, is there? Shall we get that vest off, you might breathe better...”
I shrugged off my holey jacket and tried to reach the Velcro – a stab of pain from my arm surprised a gasp from me.
“I’ll get it...” Jon peeled off the straps, but let Kyle ease the thing off to avoid knocking me with it – and I could in fact breathe a little better.
“Where’s Bane? Aren’t they finished yet?”
“Margo, they’ve been in there ten minutes, I expect they’ve hardly started.”
“Oh my.” Kyle was pale under his camo paint as he picked at the twisted lumps of metal imbedded in the vest. “Oh my, you said it, Jon, praise the Lord ! Have a feel at this...”
Jon accepted the vest from Kyle, his face losing even more colour as he worked out what he was feeling.
“Bane, Bane, Bane, Bane...” I whispered, my knees jiggling up and down despite the pain it caused my chest.
Jon put the vest to one side.
“Margo, we could be here a while, please try to calm down.” His hand went to my shoulder, rubbing soothingly again. I wanted a hug, but was afraid it would hurt too much. He clearly feared the same.
Eduardo arrived then, with Fox Two, who asked at once, “How’s Cuckoo?”
Jon told him in pretty much the same words he’d told us.
“What happened?” asked Eduardo, then.
“Broadly speaking?” said Kyle. “Fox Two will have told you as well as I can. The specifics... I can’t tell you.”
“Only three people can and one’s dead, one’s unconscious and the other...” Fox Two shot a look at me, still whispering and jiggling despite Jon’s best hugless efforts.
“Oh come on,” protested Kyle, “leave her alone, it’s not urgent now, is it? Wait, are the other teams okay? Do you know yet?”
“The other teams are all fine,” said Eduardo. “Went like clockwork, like normal. Just one Facility Commandant who used his initiative.”
And Father Mark’s dog collar would go some way to console the cunning bastard for his failure to wipe us all out.
Father Mark’s peaceful face, that tiny hole – but so much blood – his eyes had been closed...
I leant forward and threw up. Tried to mumble an apology and burst into tears.
Jon put his arms around me at last, very carefully.
Kyle hovered anxiously.
“Is there a single nurse or anything who isn’t helping with Bane?”
“Don’t you dare!” I hiccoughed fiercely, “Don’t you dare take anyone away from Bane!”
“It’s okay,” spoke up Sister Mari. “I’ve helped in hospitals back home in Africa. Let’s take her into one of the side rooms where she’ll be more comfortable...”
“I’m staying right here!”
“They could be several hours, Margo...” Jon gently eased me to my feet with Kyle’s help. “Come on in here for a few minutes at least...”
Sister Mari no nonsensely dispatched Fox Two for a washbowl, Kyle for some clean clothes from my room and Eduardo for a hot sugary drink and some chocolate. When they came back she turned them all out except for Jon and peeled me out of my gory clothes.
Oh, that’s why it hurt... The bruises were developing already, huge and extensive – the two shots that had hit near the centre had actually driven my buttons through my skin. Sister Mari prised them out and smeared the raw circles with antiseptic, then had me washed and in clean clothes, the hot drink poured down my throat and seated in an armchair eating chocolate in the space of a quarter an hour.
I actually felt slightly better.
“How are they doing?” I asked Jon for maybe the fiftieth time.
“I’ll ask.” Patiently, Jon left the corner he’d retreated into throughout all this – his equivalent of turning his back – opened the door a crack and passed the question on. “Still no news,” he reported. “That’s good, y’know.”
Translation: Bane hasn’t died.
My stomach threatened to reject the chocolate.
***+***
13
DEAD MEAT
I hurtled out of the circle of Jon’s arms as a door opened out in the corridor – stood for a moment, bent over and bracing myself against the wall, waiting for the pain to subside.
Good enough... I yanked the door open and tottered through. The two nurses were just wheeling a trolley into a side room.
“Bane? Bane? ”
“He’s still unconscious,” said Doctor Frederick soberly, following as I hurried into the room. “Will be for a while...” His voice became a vague sound in the background – I’d seen Bane.
So pale. So still. A monitor beeped on the side of the bed. Steadily but with a certain deficit of enthusiasm. Come on, Bane, hang in there...
The nurses briskly connected up fresh bags to needle things in his arm – one of blood, one of fluid? I sat on the tube-free side of the bed and took his hand gently. He was clean and they’d put him in some sort of medical gown. I’d have done that... But, no. I wasn’t his wife yet, so it was the nurses’ job.
I stroked the hair back from his white face. An oxygen tube was hooked under his nose. I bent to kiss his cheek – no reaction, of course. If only he’d open his eyes and be okay...
After a while Jon appeared on the other side of the bed.
“Be careful, Jon, there are tubes and things over there…”
Oh, Doctor Frederick was gone...
“Jon? What did the doctor say? I couldn’t... I couldn’t take it in...”
“Oh...” Very carefully, Jon felt his way around the bed. My heart sunk further with every step he took and I eased off the bed, staring at his strained face. Not good...
He found my hand, gave what was clearly supposed to be a reassuring squeeze.
“Well, he said...” he paused. Simply trying to summarise what Doctor Frederick had said or choosing his words? “He said...” He squeezed my hand again. “He said Bane’s got a chance.”
The carefully chosen words sunk in slowly.
Bane only had a chance?
Nothing about making a good recovery. Not even a good chance. Only... a chance.
I sat on the bed again with a bump. Muttered, “Sorry, Bane.” But he hadn’t felt it. Too deeply unconscious. Would I ever see his brown eyes open again? Hear his voice? Ever again?
Jon was draping a blanket around me... oh, I was trembling. He put an arm around me and I leant into his comforting warmth. The whole world was shades of cold and grey.
“I thought if we could get him here, he’d be okay...”
“Did you?”
“I hoped.”
“Well, he may well be. He’s a fighter, you know that.”
“Yes...”
Second dragged eternally after second, minutes w
ere whole hours, hours were days as I knelt by Bane’s bed. Sufficiently restored by Sister Mari’s attentions for prayers of more than two syllables, I begged ineloquently but fervently for Bane’s life. And begged. And begged.
After a few hours – days? – passed and the monitor was still beeping, I began to see how lacking my prayers were. I’d always tried to finish with that best and most beautiful prayer, ‘or your will, Lord,’ but now, now I couldn’t. Not with this.
The Lord always brought good out of evil. The Lord always had our best interests at heart. But right now I couldn’t care about that. There was only one thing I wanted, whether in my best interest or not – though surely it was, I couldn’t believe otherwise...
I just wanted Bane to live.
Even in the Facility I’d managed to surrender myself to God’s will. But I couldn’t surrender Bane. Perhaps it was a lack of trust in God. It felt like it. Jon knelt beside me, hands resting on the bed and forehead touching them. Was he doing any better?
Please, Lord, let Bane live...
Please, Lord, let Bane live...
Please, Lord...
...I woke with a start, my heart pounding in sudden panic and my ears straining...
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
I relaxed. Gratias Domine.
I was lying on the bed beside Bane, a blanket tucked over me. Jon must’ve put me there. My ear against the mattress had muffled that precious sound. Was it a little less tentative, or was that just wishful thinking?
Bane still looked so white. Jon was asleep in an armchair. How could I have fallen asleep? How could Jon have fallen asleep! What if...
I shied away from the thought and climbed as lightly as I could off the bed to kneel again on the floor. I could sleep later, when... when Bane was getting better, please Lord?
Please, Lord...
...Something settled onto me... I opened my eyes... Kyle was bending over me, just letting a blanket go. Dawn’s light brightened the dimly lit room, spilling around the curtains – one of the nurses bustled in through the open door and began to draw them. My hip ached from lying on the hard floor and when I tried to sit up, my chest...
Liberation (I Am Margaret Book 3) Page 15