by Sue Rabie
David swore. ‘Try anyway,’ he said. ‘At least they’ll know we have a problem here. As soon as the weather breaks they’ll send a helicopter.’
Malan nodded and left Phiwe to hold Mark on his own. He was still unconscious, which was good because David still had work to do. He had to seal the wound as soon as possible, before the lung collapsed. He let the blood drain a little longer, until it was only pink froth, then he nodded at May to remove the bottle. The pipe in Mark’s side would act as an internal compress for now, stopping the bleeding from inside and preventing the blood from the wound entering the lungs. He cut the rest of the piping off so that only a few centimetres were protruding from Mark’s side. Mark’s breathing was still laboured, but that was from the pipe itself, from the hole in his chest that now needed closing. The drain would have to stay in, and it would have to be sealed to keep the lung inflated. David sealed it with the only thing handy. The top to the bottle May had brought. It was a tight fit, the top only going on after being forced. David was grateful Mark was unconscious. It would have hurt, would hurt again when they had to take it off and drain any blood that might seep into the lung in the next few hours.
He finished by placing the remaining towelling against the wound and wedging it there so that the external bleeding would stop, then he called for blankets.
Phiwe reached back and tugged two blankets off someone’s cot.
‘More,’ David said.
Two more were dragged off cots, one going under Mark’s head and the other tucked under his side.
‘Don’t you want to move him to a more comfortable place?’ Phiwe asked.
David shook his head. ‘I don’t want to move him at all,’ he told him. ‘We might do even more damage if we pick him up again.’
‘David,’ May asked hesitantly, ‘is he going to be all right?’
David looked up. The crowds were still close around him; Phiwe still holding Mark’s legs. Even Du Plessis was waiting.
David nodded. ‘Yes,’ he told them, ‘he’ll be all right …’
‘Which is surprising,’ drawled Alex Kyle. ‘Considering who David really is …’
❄
David glanced up sharply.
He had not seen Kyle on his return from the clinic, nor had he seen Jake or Potgieter when he had first come into the club. He glanced at Du Plessis to gauge his reaction. Had the policeman also told Alex Kyle about his past?
The look on Du Plessis’s face told him everything he needed to know. There was surprise there, and even a little confusion, but nothing to indicate he had revealed who David was to Kyle.
Then who? And more importantly why?
‘What do you mean by that?’ Du Plessis asked, stepping in front of David. ‘We’ve got more than enough trouble without that sort of comment.’
Kyle held up his hands in apparent apology. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m just telling the truth …’
‘The truth!’ Du Plessis exclaimed. ‘How about telling us the truth about what happened here!’
There were rumblings of agreement from the crowd.
‘I told you already,’ the tall man said, sighing. ‘It was an accident. His finger slipped. I’m sure Potgieter didn’t mean it.’
There was a rumbled objection to that. David noticed Potgieter shoot a surprised look at Kyle.
‘His finger slipped?’ Du Plessis echoed warily. ‘What kind of an explanation is that? And what was your bleddie gun doing out?’ he asked Potgieter, angry spots of red developing high on his cheeks. ‘Who said you could let someone handle your weapon?’
David began to get an idea of what had happened. Potgieter had given his revolver to either Jake or Alex Kyle and the gun had gone off.
‘It … That’s not … I didn’t do it …’ Potgieter stuttered, his face white and sweaty.
‘That’s not good enough, Potgieter,’ Du Plessis said, over more angry mutterings from the onlookers. ‘You could’ve killed a man! Mark might still die!’
‘I didn’t …’ Potgieter glanced at Jake desperately. ‘It wasn’t me! It was him!’ he cried, pointing at Jake.
Jake eased himself up from his nonchalant stance against the wall. ‘No way, pal,’ he said. ‘Don’t blame it on me. My hand wasn’t even on the gun. You pulled the trigger yourself!’
‘But I didn’t,’ came the baffled objection. ‘I didn’t pull the trigger, you made me …’
‘Bleddie hell, Potgieter!’ Du Plessis cut in. ‘You’d better give me your gun!’
‘Give it a break, Du Plessis,’ Kyle said, as Du Plessis advanced towards Potgieter. ‘It was an accident, we can all see that now, and besides, if anyone’s broken the law, it’s David.’
David was still on his knees beside Mark and as Alex Kyle looked down at him he saw that there was a soft smile on Kyle’s face.
‘Why Du Plessis even allowed you to touch Mark I don’t know,’ Kyle continued, addressing David this time. ‘You’ve probably done more damage than good, as a struck off physician, hell, as a murderer! I’m surprised Mark’s alive!’
Murderer.
He didn’t say it like Potgieter had said it when he and David had argued earlier in the hall, didn’t say it under his breath just in case it wasn’t true. He said it loudly, and this time everybody heard.
Some looked at Kyle in disbelief – David’s neighbours, his friends, the people he knew and trusted – but some were looking at David himself, confusion and doubt on their faces.
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ David said.
He looked down at Mark to check on his breathing, looked away from Kyle and the accusation there.
Then he realised his glance away could be mistaken for guilt, the submissive gesture of shame.
‘David?’ Malan, who had returned from his office and the CB radio, asked. ‘What’s going on?’
David’s stomach churned. Already it was starting, already they distrusted him.
He struggled for words to explain.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Du Plessis said over his hesitation. ‘David’s not the guilty one here, he just saved Mark’s life. What I want to know is how the hell this so-called accident happened in the first place?’
‘And what I want to know is why you’re trying to hide David’s crime?’ Kyle said, taking a pace towards Du Plessis. ‘You’ve lied to this community. You’ve hidden a criminal, a murderer, in their midst without telling them. I don’t know who’s worse … you, Potgieter here, or David Theron.’ Kyle turned on David. ‘Isn’t that your name, Mr Theron? Your real name?’
The accusation was so direct that the outcome was inevitable.
‘Du Plessis? What’s all this about?’ asked Malan.
‘It’s police business, Malan,’ Du Plessis blustered, ‘it’s got nothing to do with anybody or any …’
‘They have a right to know!’ Kyle interrupted harshly.
‘If they have a right to know anything, Mr Kyle,’ Du Plessis retorted, ‘then they have a right to know what the hell went on in that storeroom tonight …’ Du Plessis’s words were loud.
‘Gentlemen …’ Malan interrupted, trying to defuse the situation.
Kyle took another step closer. ‘I told them the truth, Du Plessis,’ he said. ‘Now these people need to hear the truth from you!’
There were low mutterings of unease.
‘The truth! You’re a bleddie liar!’ Du Plessis spat.
‘And you? You’re a fraud!’ Kyle snarled back. ‘You have no right calling yourself a policeman. You don’t even have these people’s safety at heart.’
‘Enough!’ It was David. He spoke out over the others for the first time. ‘Stop it, both of you.’
The crowd was suddenly silent. Du Plessis glanced at David and shook his head, but David had no choice, not with what had already been said.
‘He’s right, I’ve been hiding something …’
‘David, you don’t have to …’
‘I killed someone, was tried, s
entenced and convicted. But I also served my time, and it’s over now.’
Kyle grinned in triumph. ‘Over?’ he asked. ‘You killed someone, murdered a patient, and you say it’s over. Look what happened tonight?’
‘He saved Mark’s life!’ May said.
‘He could have killed him. He might kill someone else before the night is over!’ Kyle responded harshly.
‘David would never do that …’ May objected.
‘And what the hell would you know, you stupid bitch? All you want to do is fuck him.’ It was Jake.
‘Hey!’ David yelled, lunging at Jake.
‘David! No!’ Du Plessis said, catching him by the arm.
‘Bastard!’ David seethed as he broke through Du Plessis’s grip.
The crowd surged away in alarm, as Phiwe joined Du Plessis in trying to hold David back.
‘You see!’ Kyle crowed triumphantly as he stepped in front of Jake. ‘He can’t be trusted!’
‘You bastard!’ David seethed again.
‘David! Leave it!’ Du Plessis hissed at David as he fought to control him. ‘He’s doing it on purpose … This is exactly what he wants!’
But David’s anger was out of control. He had hidden his feelings away for so long, had suppressed the guilt and fear until it was impossible to control it.
He struck out.
It would have been nasty had it landed, would have certainly left a mark on Kyle’s face had there been contact, but Kyle ducked away and David’s fist skimmed harmlessly across his face.
Still, Kyle fell backward with a cry of pain. ‘Did you see that!’ he cried to the people he had fallen against and who now bent to help. ‘He hit me!’
David snarled at the lie.
He hadn’t touched Kyle, but the man had fallen regardless.
And that was when David knew he was in trouble.
‘Hold him!’ Kyle pointed at David. ‘Lock him away before he hurts someone else!’
David felt more hands at his arms and shoulders as the others obeyed.
‘Wait!’ he gasped as they pulled him into the passageway leading to the storerooms. He couldn’t believe this was happening, couldn’t believe he had been tricked into this situation. ‘Listen to me!’
As they pulled him into the passageway leading to the storerooms, he saw May staring at him.
The look on her face was like a blow to his stomach.
It wasn’t disbelief. It wasn’t shock. It was disappointment.
Thirteen
❄
‘I don’t believe this,’ Du Plessis said, pacing up and down. ‘I don’t bleddie believe this.’
They were in the storeroom, the cots that had taken up most of the space had gone now and only a few trestle tables, several stacks of fold-up chairs and an old wooden stool remained.
A stark, shadeless light bulb swung slowly backward and forward above Du Plessis’s pacing.
David watched the shadows on the floor. He sat on the lone wooden stool with his elbows on his knees.
‘What the bleddie hell did you think you were doing!’ Du Plessis shouted.
He had asked David the question once before, as he and two of the others had pushed him towards the stool.
David hadn’t answered him then either.
‘Should we lock him in?’ one of the men had asked.
They were both strangers – two of the passengers on the bus – and Du Plessis had turned on them angrily. ‘This is the man who saved your lives!’ he said with barely concealed contempt.
The men had retreated hurriedly, and Du Plessis had been left at the open door looking down at David.
It was then that Du Plessis had started muttering and pacing.
Twenty minutes later, he was no closer to understanding the predicament they found themselves in. ‘How did this happen?’ he asked himself. ‘One minute everything’s fine and the next it’s all a bleddie mess!’
He glanced out into the passageway where Mark had been shot. David followed his gaze. There was no blood, no sign of the violence that had transpired in the narrow hall.
‘Bleddie hell,’ Du Plessis said, as he started back across the room.
David kept quiet, his eyes on Du Plessis’s swaying shadow. He was scared. He was scared for Mark, scared that he had done the wrong thing, that he had done too little, that help would come too late. He was hurt too, hurt by May’s disappointment. Did she believe Kyle? Did the others believe him too?
The thought made him angry. He had allowed himself to be manipulated into this situation, had allowed Kyle to twist the truth to suit himself.
‘He wants something,’ David muttered to himself.
Du Plessis halted mid-stride. ‘What?’ he snapped.
‘I said he wants something,’ David repeated. ‘Something from me.’
Du Plessis frowned angrily. ‘What the hell do you mean “he wants something”? All he wanted was to make trouble, and you didn’t refuse. You charged right in without even thinking about it!’
David didn’t react to Du Plessis’s accusation. Du Plessis was right. David had reacted automatically, struck out without thinking, but he had been provoked, and what he wanted to know was why.
‘I want you to find out who they are.’
Du Plessis shook his head incredulously. ‘You want? You want? They want me to lock you up! And now you want me to find out who they are? Damn it all, David, isn’t there enough going on already without starting an investigation?’ He was angry now. ‘What about Mark?’ he went on. ‘What the hell am I going to do about him? He needs medical attention, he needs a doctor, and with you gone who’s going to look after him?’
David kept quiet and let Du Plessis pace his frustrations out.
‘I suppose you’re right,’ he growled as he stopped pacing and turned to David. ‘I saw him duck away when you tried to hit him …’ He took a deep breath and rubbed at his temples, trying to convince himself the headache that had started up behind his eyes wasn’t really all that bad. ‘All right,’ he rasped, ‘I’ll bleddie try and find out who they are, but you’ve got to tell the others the truth about yourself so we can clear this misunderstanding up once and for all …’
‘No!’ David said, standing up. ‘I’m not going to tell them. I don’t want them to know.’
Du Plessis was quiet for a while. ‘David,’ he said carefully. ‘Listen to me …’
But David wouldn’t listen. He knew if he allowed Du Plessis to tell the others the truth of his past he would be forgiven, but he also knew that with their forgiveness would come their pity, and pity was the last thing he wanted.
‘Just make sure Mark is all right,’ David said to Du Plessis. ‘Just find out who they are.’
Du Plessis nodded reluctantly. ‘All right then,’ he said and turned to leave.
His hand was on the door, his eyes on the key that rested in the lock. He half turned to David. ‘Look, David, about you being in here …’ he began.
David waved him away. ‘I understand,’ he said. ‘You have to lock it.’
Du Plessis hesitated once more, then sighed and shook his head. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, then stepped outside and shut the door.
Fourteen
❄
May checked Mark’s temperature, then smiled reassuringly at Thembi. She was the oldest of the three girls. Seventeen, Thembi had told her. The other two girls were in the same class at their Pietermaritzburg boarding school, but Thembi Mkhize was a year ahead, a prefect in her dorm and captain of the open netball side. May had found all of this out after Du Plessis had taken David away. After all the excitement was over people had gone back to their beds, Malan insisting that it would be easier for him and May to look after Mark if they all retired.
For once the crowd had listened.
Only a few stayed awake. Kyle, Jake and Potgieter were three of those who could not sleep. Jake and Kyle had retreated to the bar. Once there, Jake had begun to chain-smoke from a pack of cigarettes he had taken from behind the
counter, while Kyle simply sat and watched the goings-on through the archway to the hall. Potgieter also watched, from where Du Plessis had stationed him at the front door. His glance continually flicking to Mark and those looking after him.
Malan had asked May, Phiwe and Thembi to stay awake and help out with Mark as best they could. The older girl had taken an advanced course in first aid, and when Malan had asked if anyone had experience, she was the only one who had stepped forward.
May was grateful. She didn’t know if she could manage on her own.
‘He seems all right for now,’ Thembi told her. ‘I suppose all we can do now is keep him still and warm until help comes.’
Help. An evacuation helicopter would take twenty minutes from Pietermaritzburg in good weather, but how long would they have to wait in this snow? May wondered. How long would Mark have to suffer?
At least Malan had found something to help Mark with the pain. He had retrieved the first-aid kit from the changing rooms, had rummaged around in it for painkillers and somehow, miraculously, found five ampoules of morphine.
‘We can’t give those to him yet,’ Thembi told them. ‘We were taught never to administer painkillers until the patient wakes up, and then only if a doctor is present.’
They all agreed it would be better to wait for Mark to wake up, then at least they could assess the severity of the pain and how best to dose him. Assuming they knew how much to give him, May thought. She wondered if Thembi had been taught what the correct amount of morphine was for a man with a gunshot wound.
‘Damn it,’ Malan eventually said, breaking into her thoughts. He looked across at May and Phiwe. ‘I’m going to find Du Plessis,’ he said. ‘Will you be all right on your own?’
Both Thembi and Phiwe nodded and watched as Malan left to find the policeman.
Lord, May prayed, let help come soon.
The three of them sat together watching over Mark for the next half an hour, making sure he was comfortable and that his condition didn’t worsen. He seemed to be sleeping, his expression calm and his breathing and pulse steady. But for how long? May wondered. When would they need to drain the blood from the tube again? How much morphine should they prepare?