by Vance Huxley
As Mercedes lifted the top of the covers a little sparkle appeared in her eyes, through the drugs, pain and fatigue. “You should check for the betting.” Harold smiled, peeked, and yes, he’d won the betting again, though not completely because of all the bandages and dressings. “Now I need my lip check, ’Arold. Because I’m going to be all right now, ’Arold, so it’s important that you keep checking.” One very gentle kiss later, Mercedes sighed and closed her eyes. Harold avoided the Doc’s curious eyes, and those just outside the room.
The doctor came out after a while to give Harold the gist of it, since judging by the display he must count as the next of kin. Even the doctor smiled at Harold’s blush, while Tessa wanted to know who displayed what. Doc took it in her stride, but then she lived with Barbies. She steered everyone back to the serious part. “Mercedes is a very lucky girl despite what happened to her, but it wouldn’t have lasted. I haven’t seen many bullet wounds from Hot Rods until recently, but hers is typical. Underpowered, and the lead had impurities and wasn’t cast properly. That means they don’t penetrate as well but when the lead breaks up the result is sometimes worse, more like a shotgun. I’ve lost patients who would have survived a normal bullet.” From the look on her face, Doc didn’t care if her patients were gangsters. She didn’t like losing one. “If that bullet had hit from the front it would have probably broken through the rib, and in any case the fragments would have punctured a lung and maybe her liver or heart. Luckily the bullet was rising, coming from the side.”
“Mercedes was standing, Cooper was sitting.” Harold smiled happily at the next part. “Mercedes had better bullets so Cooper didn’t shoot twice.”
“Mercedes got the chance to use them because the rib cracked but held. The fragments went up and across, so none hit her intestines or heart. I took out the ones that hit her liver and clipped a lung so they don’t cause more problems, but left the rest. She’s got an old bullet in there and several old fragments, but none of them are dangerous. I had to take out some bone splinters from the back of the fractured rib and set a badly broken rib the other side. Something drove the broken ends inward and caused a lot of damage.”
“Punches. Caddi.” Harold half-wished the warlord had survived just so he could beat him to death.
“If he’d hit her again he might have killed her, because one end had penetrated her lung but plugged the hole. The other broken end tore her up inside, causing a lot of internal bleeding, but missed any big blood vessels. I’ve pulled the rib straight, plating it so it will heal now. I also drained the blood, but make very sure nothing hits her chest or puts a lot of pressure on that side.” Doc smiled, glancing over towards Lenny. “An easier job with competent help. I might want to borrow your Lenny for big operations, if you will let him go.” She waved a hand, dismissing that for now. “It’ll be weeks before Mercedes can move freely, so make sure she sticks to her instructions. From the number of scars, that young lady has been down the route before.”
Harold listened to Doc’s instructions after that with half an ear, because Sharyn was writing it all down and Lenny would know it all anyway. He’d got the important part; Mercedes would live! That big black hole gaping somewhere in his future had gone. The Hot Rods should throw a party, except they’d never know how near they’d come to extinction. Harold nodded to agree he’d make sure Mercedes breathed properly even if it hurt, stuck to her limited exercises, and kept the wounds clean.
He had to concentrate when Doc took his arm to move him away from the others. “Mercedes will heal, completely, in time, but it will take time.” Harold couldn’t understand why Doc had lowered her voice. “You have to give her time for everything to heal. Don’t even hug her too hard, okay?”
Harold looked back at Doc’s stern face, trying to make sense of it, but then he got the everything part. He immediately blushed before whispering, “No problem. I wouldn’t…” He really didn’t want to put the rest into words, but Doc chuckled.
“Anaesthetic loosens tongues and inhibitions. That’s why I’ve mentioned it, so you can remind your Mercedes as well. She wants to keep a promise.” Now Harold could see Doc fighting not to laugh, while his blush would have probably lit a reasonably sized room. At last Doc relented, patted him on the arm before handing over a list of medication. “Now I’ve fixed the priority patient, I’ll get to the rest. My assistant has been inspecting them, using the other ultrasound and Lenny’s notes to find the most urgent. That’s a woman called Wamil, apparently.”
Harold, Tessa and Sharyn all wanted to know what Doc meant by priority. The Doc had her instructions from the Barbies. She had to save Mercedes first, regardless of anything else because Ken wanted Harold stable, not going crazy with a rifle. A good guess, because nobody would have told Ken about Harold’s proposed method for dealing with Mercedes’ death. By the time that had been explained all the kit, assistants, Lenny, and Gayle with her gas bottles were heading out of the door.
Doc would be operating all night, hopefully until she’d worked through the critical cases. She expected the same problems but with more infection from the cloth and dirt in the wounds. The medicines Harold had bought the first time, especially the antibiotics, should have held the worst of it at bay.
Harold sat quietly after Doc left, letting it all sink in, then sneaked into his bedroom and stood looking at Mercedes sleeping. She almost looked thirteen again, but a few new lines on her face spoiled the impression. Harold lip-checked her forehead very gently before making up his camp bed. Doctor’s orders. Harold fell asleep with a smile at that.
* * *
Doc kept going until the first five were off the critical list, with luck. By then she needed a nap before setting into the rest. Most of the residents never realised, assuming that Lenny had operated on Mercedes with new kit from the Barbies. There were two diversions keeping the residents occupied, a house full of Barbies and the Hot Rod prisoners. The latter were almost crapping themselves.
The prisoners had no idea why the Barbies were visiting but had heard talk about buying medicine. They’d jumped to the conclusion Harold would be paying with Hot Rods. Being locked up since Big Mack arrived didn’t help their state of mind, with one making a fatal mistake. When the escort turned up to take the survivors to SainsMorrMart, the remaining twelve were truly relieved, giving no trouble at all.
The prisoners were kept subdued by the lines of jeering residents, and bids from the Barbies as the group marched out and up to the bypass. A score of relatively uninjured fighters provided an escort, unarmed, but Big Mack, Charger and two more ex-Hot Rods reinforced the likes of Logan. Harold told the Hot Rods they could do a runner rather than go into the Mart, but then he’d put a big bounty on them. He showed them a bundle of coupons from the carrier bag Mack had brought, as proof. None of them seemed to fancy being unarmed and hunted in a strange gang’s territory. With the Hot Rods arrested, Harold’s conscience was clear even if the Barbies called him a soft sod.
The Barbie doctor stayed four days, monitoring her patients once she’d finished operating. When the medic asked, she also inspected all of Lenny’s work. The ultrasound checked all the wounded, finding three more pieces of sharp metal that were much too near something vital. The last day she confirmed that those who’d been operated all seemed stable.
On the second day Harold gave the Barbies the location of the second tanker. Christie agreed with his assessment of the chances of liberating the fuel without a fight, and a bonfire. One Barbie on a trail bike headed for Beth’s to send out messages, and nympho-messengers.
* * *
Early morning on the fifth day Harold sent a messenger to the Hot Rods. Contrary to predictions, he couldn’t hear the howl of rage when they found out everyone else knew about the tanker. Half an hour later Vulcan drove up at the head of a small convoy. Harold met him at the gate, because he didn’t want the GOFS warlord to see the number of high-profile Barbies inside.
“I wondered if you wanted to team up, to try and grab
that tanker?” Vulcan glanced up at the wall and past Harold where nobody seemed to be doing anything urgent. “You do know about the tanker?”
“Yes, but we don’t need diesel. We’ve captured a bunch of motors from Caddi, electric cars.” Harold pointed to the new car park, currently the potato patch opposite the gates.
“Jammy shit. That’s a pity though because your tank would be a big help. There’ll a lot of diesel, enough to be able to sell some?” Vulcan looked towards the back of Orchard Close where the Tank had been parked.
“Forget it, you’ll get your men killed for nothing. From the number of gangs trying for it, sooner or later it’ll go up in flames, probably deliberately to stop another gang getting it. I heard there’s some lorries, one of them armoured, and an Army half-track, but I reckon the rest will burn with the tanker.” Harold smiled at Vulcan’s quizzical expression. He’d given away a bit too much information, probably, but the GOFS were good allies. “If I went anywhere near, I’d lurk at the edges and try to nobble a survivor. Though stopping an armoured vehicle might be difficult unless you had a really big rifle, with a really heavy bullet. You can borrow the Tank to tow it?”
“I’d thought the same about the tanker, that it would burn, but I didn’t hear about all the other vehicles. Someone mentioned an armoured lorry and armoured vans but not the Army halftrack. That’ll have real armour. You’re the second gang that doesn’t fancy going for the tanker itself, which might be a smart idea.” Vulcan grinned, nodding towards the gates and the pub. “If you let me take the Tank and we catch something, I could buy Patty a drink as payment?”
“You could buy her a drink anyway. Once most of our wounded are up to it, we’ll be having that dance so you can buy her several.” Harold watched Vulcan drive off followed by a small, heavily-decorated, heavily-plated truck hoping he’d given enough warning. Patty had asked if she could tell Vulcan the truth so he wouldn’t get injured in the fight, but Harold daren’t let her. After Christie’s confession about diesel shortages, Harold thought the GOFS might ambush the Barbies.
Soon afterwards, Harold’s sentries reported that eleven cars and vans full of Geeks had driven past, heading into Hot Rod territory loaded for bear, buffalo and possibly elephant. Another ten vehicles followed close behind them, loaded with fighters from another gang.
An hour later, Harold watched the Barbies leave Orchard Close. One car headed towards Beth’s with the doctor inside, now wearing her blonde wig and dressed as a fighter. The other cars and the pickup were crammed with heavily-armed women, following the electric motorbike to their new tanker.
* * *
Not too much later the first helicopter passed overhead, ignoring Orchard Close. The residents took turns on the two telescopes, watching the helicopters buzzing back and forth in the sky beyond the Hot Rods. Eventually a huge plume of smoke rose into the sky, miles away to the south. At first most of them wondered what it might be, until those in the know ‘leaked’ the news about Caddi’s tanker. The same people explained that Orchard Close’s electric vehicles meant they didn’t need diesel, not badly enough to pay in blood. Despite all the speculation nobody really knew who was fighting and dying, which didn’t help Patty’s mood or any of the others with Barbie or GOFS friends.
Harold waited for the local firefight to erupt, when someone spotted thirty thousand litres of diesel trundling down the back roads. It never came. Some people in Orchard Close knew the convoy had arrived home when Barbie Radio announced Trooper Hour, dedicated to Soldier Boy because he knew how to treat a bad girl nicely. Others were relieved because it sounded as if the Barbies hadn’t been hurt in the big fight. Oddly enough the Barbies finished with Brothers in Arms. The line ‘no more to make war’ sounded strange these days.
The following morning the GOFS brought the Tank back with several bullet scars on the paintwork, along with three GOFs needing medical treatment for gunshot wounds and one with a lot of shrapnel in his legs. Lenny operated on them, much more confidently after four days of practical lessons, then sent them home. Cy came with the wounded, bringing a private message for Harold. Vulcan had looked before leaping, and Soldier Boy was right about not sticking his hand in a burning hornet’s nest. He’d picked up a little something so he owed Patty a drink and a dance. Harold spread the news that the GOFS weren’t in the big fight, but now he wondered which vehicle Vulcan had snaffled.
Towards midday, four wounded Geeks were brought for Lenny to examine. Since his other patients were out of danger, and the Geeks brought a heap of medication as well as crossbows, cement and building sand, Lenny agreed to try and save three of them. The fourth Geek had an injection, never knowing he wouldn’t be recovering. The patients had been wounded in the big diesel fight but wouldn’t say much more.
As they were waking up, the anaesthetic relaxed the patients enough to confess that they’d tried for the Army vehicle but failed. The attempt cost them several fighters including Darwin. When last seen, the tracked Army vehicle had been buried inside a burning house. Wellington had switched targets to ambush some other gangsters, so the Geeks came away with a lot of weaponry and a few new motors. One Geek casualty, too badly hurt to go home straight away, had to be quarantined in a half-burned house, the one where Sal and Bernie used to have a bomb factory. Harold didn’t want the Geek hearing any rumours about diesel bowsers or Barbie doctors.
* * *
Two days later, a week after Big Mack defected and twelve days after Caddi’s attack, a single car drove very slowly down the road towards Orchard Close. The horn sounded repeatedly giving the sentries plenty of warning, and time to warn Harold the BMW had a Rolls-Royce grill with a winged lady fastened to the front. Roller did the twirl at the bottom of the turn-off to show he wasn’t armed, then walked slowly up to the gate. The car behind him held only the minimum escort any gang boss would have. Harold wondered if Roller had lost out and needed sanctuary from the new Hot Rod gang leader.
“Good morning, Harold. May I come in please? I’m the new Hot Rod boss but there’s no need for a hostage.” Roller shrugged, trying hard to be nonchalant. “After all, the GOFS and Barbies don’t bother with all that nonsense, do they?”
“But neither of them ever tried to kill me.” Harold was intrigued because this definitely wasn’t a normal Hot Rods approach.
“I’ve never tried to kill you, and I didn’t know Caddi had until after you’d dealt with him.” Roller looked each way along the wall, at the obvious guards watching him. “I don’t fancy my chances if I attack you, so can I come in and talk, please?”
“Okay, but you get a full search.” Though once he’d come inside, Roller only carried one knife. Harold took the Hot Rod to his house, because he’d carried Mercedes out to sit on the settee so he didn’t want to leave her too long. She’d insisted that if Doc said she had to sit up to help her breathing, she should sit in a comfy chair.
Roller stopped dead as he came through the door, eyeing Mercedes with definite apprehension. None of the Hot Rods had ever seen her dressed like this, wrapped up in a light dressing gown. Most of her wounds and bandages were out of sight so he had no real idea how badly she’d been hurt. “Hi Mercedes. I’m glad to see you made it.”
“Only just, but I’ll recover.” Mercedes smiled, raising her face for a lip check when Harold sat down next to her. “I’ve got an incentive.”
Charger and Big Mack came in with their wives, collected drinks and sat down. Roller smiled at them, a bit nervously since with Patty, Casper, Emmy, Tessa and Sharyn already here, he was surrounded by potentially annoyed neighbours and ex-allies. “Hello Charger, Mack, Marge, Lily. I’ve got no argument with any of you.” That was true. Roller might be a killer in a fight, but he stayed on fairly good terms with most people. “I’ve got a bit of an issue with Bugatti, something he said to Virginia. Will that be a problem?”
“It depends on if your religion believes in resurrection, which makes Bugatti a very lucky boy.” Roller looked at Mercedes, puzzled, as she ga
ve him a dazzling smile before finishing. “After all, if I hadn’t been injured, my boyfriend wouldn’t have shot the bastard through the head. Then he might still be nailed to the front gate for anyone wanting to play.” Mercedes looked at Harold. “Did I say thank you?” Thank you was gentle, but sincere.
Roller didn’t seem too worried about either the answer or the byplay. “As I said, I had an issue with him, but if he’s dead it’s sorted. Dodge had a fatal meeting with the Barbies, and Chevy terminally underestimated ET. It got a bit wild for a few days after the steadier ones pulled out, because there’s always someone who thinks he should be boss. I never actually wanted the job but I’m the last of the old ones left, and enough of the survivors prefer me to make stick. The Mansion is more or less secure now so I thought I’d better try to settle with my neighbours.” Roller shrugged, trying to ignore at least one potential Hot Rod gang leader in the room. “I’ve agreed a new border with the gangs to the south and south-west, and left them to fight over their winnings. The Trainspotters lost a lot of men trying for the armour so they were glad to settle. The Ferdinands went after the diesel, but were badly chewed up. The Baggies think the remaining Ferdinands are an easier target than the Mansion, so we’re off the hook down there.” He paused, waiting for a reaction.
“If I were you, I’d be a lot more worried about the two you missed out.” Patty had a lovely smirk because she’d already heard most of what happened on the Barbie and GOFS borders.
“The thing is, the Barbies and Caddi had a shoot on sight sort of relationship. I’d rather deal with them properly and settle our differences. Can I talk to any GOFS and Barbies that are visiting, please? Just to ask them to take a message home, asking for a meeting. Not a negotiation, because the lines seem to have settled so we’ll accept that. We haven’t got the fighters to do anything else, not now.” Roller shrugged again because everyone here must know anyway. “Pass that on if you get a chance, will you? This isn’t a Caddi deal, a set-up so we can pull a double-cross.”