Mission

by Amy Andrews

  The leader advanced further towards her with a smile on his face that was far from reassuring. Holly swallowed nervously and held her ground. Great! Now what? She glanced over at the man on the ground again and was relieved to hear him moan and then cough. The youth said something in his own language and the rest of the gang sniggered.

  Just then Holly heard whistling coming from where she had entered the alley and almost sagged in relief. ‘Help,’ she yelled in a loud voice, keeping her eyes on the leader who hesitated slightly. ‘I need some help.’

  Richard hitched his pack closer and kicked on some speed, sensing the desperation in the plea for help he had just heard. He rounded the corner at top speed and saw a tall youth startle as he burst on the scene. Richard’s snap assessment of the situation stirred his ire. A gang of youths were menacing a woman. She was lucky he’d been in the vicinity.

  ‘What the hell is going on here?’ growled Richard, striding past Holly. The leader was tall but Richard was taller and meaner and trained in unarmed combat—he’d teach these boys to threaten a women.

  The youths didn’t hang around for their lesson. They disappeared quickly and Richard chased them for a short distance but stopped, knowing that his first priority was the safety of the civilian female he had rescued. The gang members had looked sufficiently petrified to think twice about doing that again.

  Holly knew it was Richard the instant he’d spoken. Her relief at being rescued from a situation that hadn’t been going well was tempered by the irony of who her rescuer was. Yet another sticky situation he had saved her from! Oh, well, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and at the moment there were more pressing matters.

  Holly rushed to the injured man’s side. He was lying on his back and blood trickled from his nose and a wound near his temple. She felt for his carotid pulse and was alarmed by his stertorous breathing and the bluish tinge of his lips.

  ‘Hey, mister, wake up,’ she said, opening his eyes and noting his pupillary constriction to the bright light now filtering into the alley.

  The man moaned in pain and coughed again, spluttering bright frothy blood on her shirt. That wasn’t good, Holly thought as she hiked the man’s shirt up and inspected the damage to his ribs. Definitely not good. The bruising was already coming out and Holly noted in alarm the flail segment of broken ribs on his left side.

  She looked up when Richard ran back towards her and was so relieved he was by her side she almost forgave him their last meeting.

  ‘Richard! Thank God. We have to get this man out of here and back to your hospital now.’

  ‘Holly?’

  Holly? He had rescued Holly? She wore baggy fatigues that hid her body and her cap covered her hair but it was definitely pixie-faced Holly. He felt his heart give a couple of loud thuds at what could have happened to her if he hadn’t come along and wanted to yell at her and then shake her for good measure. This was exactly what he had feared.

  The man on the ground coughed yet again and Richard felt his feelings ebb as concern for the stranger took over. Where the hell had he come from?

  ‘What happened?’ he demanded, kneeling on the other side of the patient, opposite Holly. His eyes met hers and he realised she had purple eyes. Purple eyes? Holly always did like to accessorise.

  ‘Those boys were kicking him half to death when I found them. I think his ribs bore the brunt. He’s got a flail segment.’

  Flail? He dragged his gaze from her face and opened his pack, having noted the depressed section of ribs that was moving in and out completely asynchronous to the rest of the chest wall. It was severely impeding the man’s ability to breathe.

  Richard threw Holly some gloves and as he was putting his on, she reached for his stethoscope.

  ‘Absent air entry on the left,’ she said, pulling the stethoscope out of her ears with gloved hands.

  Alarmed by the man’s increasing dyspnoea and rapidly developing cyanosis, Richard assessed the man’s neck veins. They were bulging.

  ‘He’s developing a tension pneumo,’ Holly said. Richard didn’t have time to be impressed by Holly’s clinical skills as right before his eyes the stranger’s lips lost their colour and his trachea slowly deviated to the right, shifting from its midline position.

  ‘Get me a fourteen-gauge needle,’ barked Richard as he tore the man’s shirt right up the middle. ‘He’s got mediastinal shift, he’ll be in real trouble soon if we don’t decompress his chest, stat.’

  She quickly located the large-bore needle and passed it to Richard, knowing that their patient’s damaged lungs were leaking air into his chest cavity. His respiratory system was enormously compromised and his cardiac function would be next.

  Richard methodically palpated the second intercostal space, running his finger to the mid-clavicular point, and plunged the needle through the man’s skin and into the pleural cavity. There was no time for sterility, for preparing the skin with an antiseptic wash or even a local anaesthetic. The patient needed the air drained from his chest cavity so his lung could reinflate—now!

  The effectiveness of the treatment was instantaneous. As quickly as it had deviated, the trachea moved back to its normal position. The patient’s lips lost their cyanotic tinge and pinked up. He dragged in some deep ragged breaths.

  Holly let out her pent-up breath. They’d done it. Their patient’s condition had drastically improved. She started to feel shaky as reaction to the events sank in and the adrenaline surge ebbed.

  She watched as Richard did a head-to-toe examination of the man, his capable hands running over the patient’s body, thoroughly checking for any other areas of concern. She felt absurdly like crawling over, sitting in his lap and burrowing her head into his chest.

  What would have happened if he hadn’t come along when he did?

  CHAPTER TWO

  TWENTY minutes later an army ambulance carried the injured man back to the field hospital. Richard had radioed HQ and they’d stabilised him, padding his flail segment and inserting two IVs. Holly was acutely aware of Richard’s arm brushing lightly against hers as they watched the vehicle until it disappeared from sight.

  Without speaking, he marched back into the alley where all the excitement had occurred. Now it was all over he knew that if he opened his mouth she would feel the sharpness of his tongue.

  Holly trailed after him. He was packing up his equipment and she knelt down beside him and silently helped. She passed him the stethoscope and as their hands brushed she tried to quell the familiar rush of sensation because they were in a dingy alley, in a foreign land, and it just didn’t seem appropriate.

  Richard’s hand stilled as the contact reminded him of how tactile their relationship had been. He looked at her closely despite every cell in his brain telling him not to.

  ‘You have purple eyes,’ he said, because it was the first thing that popped into his head.

  Holly had forgotten about the contacts she had put in that morning. The kids at the orphanage had loved them! ‘Oh, yes…’ she said. ‘Just because I’m in a disaster zone doesn’t mean I still can’t look good, right?’

  And she did. She really did. He stared at her for a few moments, a familiar heat building and invading every part of his body. He shook his head to clear the fog, remembering where he was and why he was there. He pushed himself up from the ground. He had to put some distance between them.

  ‘We’d better get moving,’ said Richard.

  He picked up his pack and set off at a brisk pace. Holly practically had to run to keep up with his long-legged stride.

  ‘So what were you doing out here?’ asked Holly, trying to make conversation when it became obvious he wasn’t going to talk to her.

  ‘Collecting specimens,’ he said.

  ‘Mosquito water?’ she asked.

  He nodded briefly. ‘Pleased to see you were listening the other day.’

  She opened her mouth to compliment him on his lecture but almost as if he sensed her intention to talk he kicked on some more spe
ed. While she was running to catch up she admired him from behind. His salt-and-pepper head bobbed with each footfall, his army camouflage pants pulling taut across his buttocks and his khaki T-shirt stretching across his wide back. His six-four frame was achingly familiar.

  ‘I always listen,’ she said, finally catching him up.

  ‘Not that well, obviously. If you had, you’d know it’s dangerous…a woman wandering around by herself.’ He relived the awful moment when he’d realised that it was she he had rescued and the things that could have happened to her. It made him sick thinking about it. Just because they weren’t in a relationship any more, it didn’t mean he didn’t care for her.

  ‘I wasn’t alone, we’re not allowed. Glenda came with me, we just separated temporarily to shorten the trip.’

  ‘So you were alone.’

  ‘Well, technically…yes.’

  ‘No technically about it. You were alone and that is not only dangerous, it’s downright stupid. Do you have any idea what could have happened to you today?’

  ‘I had to stop them beating him, Richard.’

  ‘What?’ Was she telling him she’d approached them?

  Holly filled him in on what had happened. He shook his head. Just as he’d feared, she was going to get herself killed.

  ‘Are you crazy?’ he demanded. He opened his mouth to deliver another lecture on safety and her complete unsuitability for Tanrami but stopped abruptly when she squeezed his arm.

  ‘Richard. Don’t say it. I know that today could have ended very badly and I promise not to take any more risks. Please, just spare me the lecture. I’m OK. Nothing happened.’

  ‘But it could have.’

  ‘But it didn’t. Got my own tough-guy soldier looking out for me,’ Holly said, smiling at him.

  Richard looked at her in exasperation. ‘Holly, what happens next time…when I’m not around?’

  ‘Cheer up Richard, it’ll probably never happen.’ This time she shot him a wicked grin because the conversation was getting kind of old. She’d been sufficiently scared to take heed.

  Holly checked her watch. ‘Shit, I’m late. Glenda will be worried.’

  Richard smiled despite himself at her expletive. ‘You work in an orphanage now, Holly. Language like that will see you go straight to hell.’

  She cast her eyes around at the waterlogged city, the leaden sky, and drew in a deep breath of foetid air. ‘Too late, Richard, I’m already here.’

  She sighed and enjoyed the difference even a slight smile made to his face. It dimpled his cheeks and softened the planes and angles and the deep black of his eyes. It even made the dark stubble on his chin less military. It reminded her of the Richard she had first known and loved.

  They found a very worried Glenda pacing outside the meeting point a few minutes later. Holly introduced them and Richard escorted them back to the orphanage. He listened to their idle chatter and made a mental note to talk to the CO about sparing someone each day to accompany the workers into the city on their orphan runs. He’d sleep easier if he knew a soldier was accompanying them. Not that he slept well at the best of times.

  Richard plodded along behind them, trying not to ogle Holly’s cute backside or the seductive sway of her hips. Even in baggy clothes she had a great strut. His mind wandered to how good she looked naked and then he shook his head, disgusted at himself.

  Honestly, having her here was just the living end! He was here as part of an Australian Defence Force humanitarian mission. To monitor and eradicate mosquito populations. To treat cases of malaria and dengue and provide public health services and education. Not to pick up where he’d left off with a girl nearly half his age.

  They reached their destination and Holly watched Glenda walk into the sturdily constructed stone building that had miraculously survived the typhoon and had been commandeered in the early days for use as an orphanage. All around them were the temporary buildings of various aid agencies, part of the massive international humanitarian response which had poured in after the devastating news had circulated the globe.

  She could see the khaki tents in the distance that was Richard’s field hospital and, further beyond that, myriad multicoloured tents stretched as far as the eye could see, a city full of displaced people, refugees in their own country, awaiting the agonisingly slow rebuilding process.

  She looked at Richard who was looking anywhere but at her. He seemed to be finding the bustle of activity all around them particularly riveting. She also allowed the hubbub to distract her from her thoughts and the sudden awkwardness between them.

  ‘Look, I’m sorry about before. While I think you took an unacceptable risk, what you did, confronting those boys was very brave,’ said Richard.

  He was a great believer in giving praise where it was due, and he had to admit her actions had surprised him. He knew from experience that a bug usually sent her into the vapours, and yet she had taken on a gang of violent teenagers.

  Holly blinked, startled by the reluctant compliment, and felt stupidly happy. It had obviously cost him a lot if his serious face was anything to go by. She had the sudden urge to see him smile again. ‘And me being so young and everything,’ she sighed dramatically.

  He gave her a grudging smile. Aha! That was more like it. ‘I’d better go,’ she said. ‘I guess I’ll be seeing you around.’

  He watched her hips sway as she walked away from him. Watched until she disappeared inside the orphanage. Not if I can help it, Pollyanna. Not if I can help it.

  Three days passed. Three days that lulled Richard into a false sense of security. He didn’t see her, he didn’t talk to her. He was beginning to think having Holly less than a kilometre away wasn’t going to be a problem. Wrong.

  ‘Sergeant,’ said Gary Lynch, an army doctor, entering the lab area of the army hospital.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Richard, lifting his eyes from the microscope.

  ‘I have customers waiting for you outside. Five children from the orphanage need malarial screening. I’ve just done physicals—they’re all undernourished but remarkably well otherwise.’

  And that’s when his sense of security came to an abrupt halt. He just knew that Holly was out there also.

  ‘Roach!’ he called, returning his eyes to the microscope where he was examining mosquito larvae.

  No one answered and he looked around the empty lab with a sinking feeling. He was going to have to do it himself. He made a mental note to have Private Roach flogged and reluctantly left his desk.

  He stood at the flap that separated the lab area from the outpatient section and looked through the clear plastic panel. There she was, with a bunch of rag-tag kids sitting patiently on the chairs provided.

  Holly nursed an infant on her lap, one hand resting on its back. She was absently rubbing her face back and forth through the babe’s soft downy hair. The child’s hand rested on Holly’s T-shirt-clad breast and had its head snuggled in her cleavage. It was a touching scene and Richard felt a pang somewhere in the region of his heart.

  She looked up as he pushed the flap aside and smiled at him her purple eyes twinkling.

  ‘Hello, Richard.’

  ‘Holly.’

  He stared at her for a bit longer. Everything about her was delicate, from her slender ankles to her heart-shaped face. Her blonde pixie-cut hair, feathering around her face, completed the picture. It emphasised her age, and Richard suddenly felt very old.

  The child on her lap stirred, lifting its head up and swapping cheeks, pressing the other side to Holly’s bosom. Richard couldn’t keep his eyes off it as the child’s hand settled back to rest gently on Holly’s breast.

  He looked back at Holly and realised she’d been watching him all along. Their eyes locked momentarily and it was suddenly as if they were the only two people in the world.

  Private Roach brushed passed him and almost tripped as he did a double-take when he saw Holly. He stopped abruptly.

  ‘You were looking for me, sir.’

&
nbsp; Roach smiled at Holly and she smiled back at him and Richard saw the gleam in the young private’s eyes. He made a further note to use a cat-o’-nine-tails when Roach was flogged.

  ‘I’ve left some slides under the microscope. Can you continue the classification process for me?’

  Roach dragged his gaze away from Holly with difficulty, about to protest, but thought better of it when he saw the look of steel in his superior’s eyes.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ he said, leaving reluctantly and shooting Holly another dazzler for good measure.

  ‘Through here,’ he said, and indicated for Holly to follow him.

  She smiled at the children and stood and they followed her in their silent serious way. Holly had never met more solemn children. They had been through so much and her heart broke to think of how deep their sorrow must be.

  ‘Up here,’ said Richard, and patted an examination bench. The children stared at him with their big brown eyes. Apart from the baby, the youngest looked about three and the oldest around six. None of them moved.

  Holly smiled. She was used to this blank, silent routine. It wasn’t recalcitrance, just a mixture of a huge language barrier and powerlessness.

  ‘Come on, my darlings,’ she said, and smiled and nodded at them reassuringly. ‘It’s OK. Jup, jup,’ she clucked, thankful that she was learning enough of the native language to get by.

  Still they didn’t move and her heart went out to them even more.

  ‘What do we do now?’ Richard asked, a smile playing on his lips.

  He was wearing the same uniform as the other day and Holly tried not to be distracted by the broadness of his chest or the covering of dark hairs on his perfectly muscled arms.

  ‘I’ll sit up with them,’ she said, and he helped her climb up onto the bench. She was still holding the infant, who was clinging to her.

  The children watched the new development silently.