“But Ketty?” I nod. “Listen to your physiotherapist. I understand what you did here today, but you need to take care of yourself. We’ll assign someone to work with you at the camp. Look after yourself, and give yourself a chance to heal. Agreed?”
When I’ve kept my promise to Brigadier Lee. When we’ve made our move on the terrorists.
“Agreed.”
*****
Commander Bracken comes to pick me up at lunchtime. I walk out on my own, on a single crutch, my knee bandaged again.
Bracken carries my belongings, and the nurse hands him my flowers in a plastic bag.
“Secret admirer?” He says, raising his eyebrows at me.
“Something like that.”
You have no idea.
On our way out, we pay Jackson a visit. There’s no change. He still has the breathing tube and the chest tube, and all the needles and wires and machines. He’s still not really Jackson. I turn and walk away, and the commander has to catch up with me in the corridor.
I’ll get them, Jackson. I’ll make them pay.
Rest
“I can’t work out why you’re my problem now, Lead Recruit. Why aren’t you still in hospital?”
“I can walk, and I can work. No point staying there when I could be doing my job.”
I adjust the pillows under my knee, and behind my back, until I’m sitting up straight. Lead Medic Webb checks my notes from Doctor Grace.
“But you shouldn’t be walking. Not with this kind of injury. You’ve got damage to muscles … ligaments …” he turns a page, “tendons … cartilage … bone. This is a mess, Ketty.”
I shrug. “Dr Grace let me go. I need to get moving, and I need to fix this. I want to be walking properly by the weekend.”
He laughs. “And I want a pony and a chocolate factory, but that doesn’t make it so. You need to give this time. You’ll get there, but you need to be patient.”
We’ll see how that goes, Doctor.
*****
“I heard you were back. How are you?”
Miller stands at the door to my room in the medical centre. I wave him in, and he sits down on the other bed.
“I’ve been worse.”
He nods, and looks round the room.
“You’ve done OK here. How come you get the presidential suite and the soft pillows, and the rest of us are still in dorms?”
I spread my arms, showing off the space. “Welcome to my new office! Doctor Webb gave me a room to myself, so I can hold meetings and parties without getting out of bed.” I flash him a grin and drop my voice to a whisper. “Haven’t you heard? Camp Bishop revolves around me, now. You lot just have to get used to it.”
He laughs. “Camp Bishop always revolves around you, doesn’t it?” He’s joking, but there’s a hard edge to his voice.
This isn’t a courtesy call. This is you finding out how soon you can take my job.
“What can I do for you, Miller? Don’t you have recruits to babysit?”
He looks at his watch. “I’ve got a few minutes.” He looks down at the floor. “How’s Jackson?”
I give him a cold stare. “Jackson’s bad, Miller. Dan Pearce shot him twice in the chest with a camp-issue rifle. Pearce was wearing armour. Jackson wasn’t.”
“Mitchell said he’d been shot. He said the coach driver saved his life, but I wondered …”
“It’s bad.”
He nods, still looking at the floor.
“And Taylor?”
“Taylor’s gone. And Brown. They finally found their way back to Ellman and her friends.”
He looks at me again, an unfriendly, smug smile on his face. “You let them go?”
Really, Miller? Looking for another excuse to replace me?
I turn up the sarcasm. “Yeah. I let them go. I packed their little lunches, I gave them their warm coats, and I pushed them out of the door. I kissed them goodbye and waved them on their way. Oh – and as a thank-you, their friend put a thoughtful bullet in my knee.”
He smirks, and I can’t hide my anger.
“No, Miller – we did not let them go. Jackson and I defended the coach. We both took bullets for those kids, and the terrorists kidnapped them anyway. You want to shoot the breeze in the senior dorm about who should have done what, that’s fine, but you weren’t there. You weren’t on the coach, you didn’t have guns pointed at you, you weren’t trying to keep the kids safe. You don’t get to tell me what I should have done.”
The pain in my knee flares, and I realise I’ve been tensing my leg muscles, leaning forward to make my point to Miller. I sit back against the pillows.
He stands up, the smirk gone from his face. “Good to see you, Ketty,” he says, and walks out of the room. I stare at the ceiling, waiting for the pain to fade.
Like you could have done better.
*****
I’m still calming down when Webb puts his head round the door.
“Does my stubborn patient feel like eating? The kitchen’s sending dinner.”
I force myself to smile. “Sure.”
“You’re due some painkillers, too. How do you feel? Do you want those now?”
Thanks to Miller, I do.
I nod. He brings me a cup of water and a couple of tablets. When I’ve swallowed them, he puts his hand on my shoulder.
“How are you feeling? I know the last few days have been … eventful. Don’t forget to let yourself stop. If you need to take some time off, I’m here to be your bodyguard. I can send people away before they bother you. I can even send Bracken away, if you want me to. If I say you’re resting, even the commander can’t overrule me.” He smiles.
We’re trying Good Cop now, are we? Flattering me into staying in bed?
“I’m fine, thank you. I’d rather stay busy.”
He nods. “I thought so – but the offer’s there. Let me know if you change your mind.”
One of the women from the kitchen arrives in the doorway with a tray.
“I’ll let you eat,” he says, taking the tray and handing it to me.
I eat alone, and it’s hard. Jackson should be here, laughing and joking with me. Poking fun at the kids. Keeping me on my toes. Challenging me to do better. Iron fists and steel toe caps, each of us pushing the other to be the best, to keep the recruits in line. To do what needs to be done, and demanding nothing in return.
I push the tray away. I used to have the backbone to do this by myself. Keep myself going. Push myself to do better. And now – what? I need Jackson to do it for me?
Come on, Ketty. Push yourself. You’re stronger than this.
But when Webb signs off for the night, and a duty medic takes over at the desk, I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes I see Jackson, motionless, surrounded by machines.
And I miss him.
Progress
Bracken arrives after breakfast, a file of papers in his hands. The nurse brought me a waterproof sleeve for my bandage, so I’ve finally had a shower, I’m dressed in a clean uniform, and I’m ready to get to work.
“I gather I have to come to you now, when I want to hold a meeting?”
“You do, Sir. Doctor Webb has set me up in his finest conference room. Pull up a chair and tell me what I can do for you.”
He raises an eyebrow at my playful insubordination, but he sits down.
“We’ve found them.” He can’t hide his smile.
“Ellman?”
“And all her friends.”
For a moment, I can’t think of anything to say. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and breathe out slowly.
“That’s good news, Sir.”
“It is. It means the plan worked. What you did on the coach – that was worth it.”
I shake my head, thinking about Jackson.
Let’s hope so.
“So where are they?”
“On a farm, we think. Somewhere in Wales. We’re sending surveillance teams over today.”
I take another deep breath. There are tear
s pricking at my eyes.
Almost there. Almost ready to round up our missing recruits. Go on, Mummy Ellman. Get out of this.
“So what’s the plan, Sir?”
“HQ is checking it as we speak. I want to hit them in the middle of the night – cut the power, cause maximum confusion, and flush them out of their hiding place. We’ll try to take prisoners, but we’ll have a backup plan in case we meet more resistance than we’re expecting.”
“And what are we expecting?”
“That’s what we’re hoping the surveillance will show. We’ll keep an eye on people coming and going, get a feel for how many people we think there are on the farm. Then we’ll send in troops, and take as many of the terrorists as we can for questioning.”
“Questioning? Surely the point is to make an example of them? Show them off on the news. Broadcast the firing squads.”
We waves his hand. “Sure. We’ll get to that. But first we’ll see what they can tell us about their organisation. Who else is out there. What they’re planning. See if we can find out who’s in charge.”
Sounds good to me.
“So do we have plans of the site? Do we know what we’re walking into?”
“We’re working on that as well. When we’ve confirmed the location, HQ will trace the owner. We’re going to see what information we can dig up on the property. Buildings, power, water. Whatever we can disrupt and use against them.”
“How long before we make our move?”
“As soon as HQ approves. When we know what’s out there, and we’ve confirmed our plans, we go. No point giving them enough time to get spooked and move on.”
“No, Sir.”
He stands up. “I need to get back. HQ will have questions, and I need to be on hand to answer them.”
“Yes, Sir. Will you let me know what they say?”
“I will.” He stops at the door. “And Ketty? I’m going to need you. I’m going to need your input on this. I’m glad you’re here.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
I’m glad I’m here, too.
*****
“Go back to bed, Ketty!”
“Not yet. I told you – I need to be walking by the weekend.”
Doctor Webb shakes his head. “And I told you – ponies and chocolate factories. You’re doing yourself more damage. At least wait for the physiotherapist.”
“When they get here, they can help.”
I’m walking up and down the medical centre corridor, a single crutch in my right hand. It still hurts to walk, but I’m pushing myself through the pain. Doctor Webb sits down in the waiting area, watching me and shaking his head. The nurse sits at the reception desk, trying to look busy.
“Do I have to order you back to bed?”
“I wouldn’t advise it, Sir.” I’m concentrating on keeping my balance, and taking the next step, and the next.
“You are one bloody-minded woman. You know that?”
“I do, Sir.”
“Normally, I’d respect that. But now?”
The door to the medical centre swings open, and one of the gate guards pushes his way inside. He lifts a green plastic medical supplies crate onto the desk. The nurse looks up in surprise.
“What’s this? New kit?” Webb jumps up and goes to inspect the crate.
The guard looks at Webb in surprise, as he fishes in his pocket for the delivery note. He puts it down on the desk. “It’s for her, Sir,” he says, nodding at me as he leaves.
Webb looks at me.
“First flowers, now medical crates? Something you want to tell me, Lead Recruit?”
Nothing I can think of.
I keep walking.
“Expecting a delivery, Ketty?” I shake my head. “Can I see what’s inside?”
“Sure. Suit yourself.”
Webb snaps the lid off the crate, pulls back a layer of packaging, and lets out a cry of excitement.
“Katrina Smith! Someone likes you.”
I make my way back along the corridor to the front desk, crutch tapping on the floor as I walk, and look over Webb’s shoulder. He reaches in and lifts out a brown cardboard box. It’s mostly plain, with a serial number and an illustration of a running stick figure, and it’s sealed with tamper-proof tape.
He looks at me again, eyes wide. “Someone else wants you to be walking by the weekend.”
Brigadier Lee?
He puts the box on the desk and opens the lid. A grin creeps over his face. “I don’t think you’re going to need the physiotherapist.”
The nurse stands up. “Is that what I think it is?”
Webb sounds excited. “I think so!”
I’m tired, my leg is hurting, and I want to get back to walking. “What are you talking about? What is it?”
Stop messing with me. I have work to do.
He touches the plastic-wrapped items in the box reverently, one by one.
“This is battlefield tech. This is top of the line.” His eyes widen again. “This is expensive.”
I reach out and rest my hand on the desk.
Enough already.
“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”
He snaps the box shut. “Better than that. I can show you.”
*****
I’m sitting up in bed, dressed in a T-shirt and a blanket. Doctor Webb carefully peels back my bandage while I grit my teeth and clench my fists. The release of pressure makes my leg pulse with pain. The stitches burn as the bandage pulls away, and the patchwork scar feels like a red-hot bar against my skin.
“Hurts, doesn’t it?” He says, glancing at me. “Sorry about that. But you’ll thank me.”
He reaches for the box, and pulls out a plastic package. “This? This will seem like magic. I promise.”
He opens the package, and pulls out a white gel pack, a little thicker and longer than a sheet of paper. He gently lifts my leg, and wraps the gel around my knee, as if he’s applying a new bandage. The wound is covered completely, and the gel sticks to itself. After a few seconds, the join is invisible. He smooths the edges of the gel onto my skin, making sure that all the damage is covered. The wrapping feels cool against the scar, but the pain is still there.
He reaches back into the box and brings out a tube of stretchy black fabric. He tears open a Velcro-style fastening, and wraps it around my leg, on top of the gel. He adjusts it until it sits tightly above and below the knee, and snugly around the wound. It hides the gel completely.
He pulls a third package from the box – a small black box with a short cable running from it. He holds it up, grins at me, and slips it into a clip on the outside of the fabric tube. He leans over, picks up the cable, and plugs it into a port just below the clip. He watches my face as he locates the power switch, and turns it on.
The gel turns instantly cold, and stiffens slightly. I’m watching the bandage, and I can feel the cold spreading through my knee. It’s fast, and it’s pushing deep into the joint. It feels strange – almost ticklish – and before long everything under the bandage, through to the bone, is cold.
And the pain is gone.
He grins at me, and I can’t help grinning back.
The pain is gone.
*****
Commander Bracken rushes out to meet us as Doctor Webb and I walk across the field towards his office. Webb is at my elbow, carrying my crutch, but he hasn’t had to steady me at all. I’m walking on my own.
The gel is washing the pain away, and the fabric support is keeping my knee steady. It’s awkward. I’m limping, and I’m moving slowly, but I’m walking without a crutch.
“Ketty! What …?”
Bracken waves his hands at me, at my knee, hidden under my trousers. Doctor Webb is grinning again. I stop in front of Bracken and stand at ease, my weight slightly shifted to my left side.
“Someone at HQ likes your Lead Recruit, Commander. She’s the proud new owner of a PowerGel Battlefield Recovery System.”
Bracken’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. It�
�s all I can do to keep a straight face.
“HQ sent you a PowerGel?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“That’s … that’s amazing.”
“I need some more practice, Sir, but I’d like to request again that you take me with you when you go after the terrorists.”
Bracken nods. “Get practising, then! If you’re ready, you’re coming. HQ wants you there. I want you there. Go on! What are you waiting for?”
*****
I’m walking up and down the corridor again, and this time Webb is encouraging me.
“Try to walk naturally. The gel will support you. I know it takes some getting used to, but don’t be afraid to put more weight on your leg.”
I walk again, and again, front door to back door and back. And every time, it gets easier. I’m still limping, but I’m slowly getting better at balancing my steps.
I’ve been walking for a while, and I’m half way along the corridor, when the woman from the kitchen arrives with a tray of food. Webb checks his watch. “Dinner, Lead Recruit?”
My steps are more confident now. The PowerGel is hidden under my clothes. I don’t need to eat on my own in the medical centre – I need to show my face in the Senior Dorm. Let Miller and the others see that I’m fit for duty. That my job’s not up for discussion.
I walk to the door, thank the woman, and take the tray. She turns to go, and I catch the closing door with my elbow and follow her out, moving slowly down the steps. Webb runs to the door behind me.
“Lead Recruit! Where are you going?”
I start walking across the field, concentrating on keeping my balance and carrying the tray. Making it look easy.
“I’m going to eat in the Senior Dorm.” I carry on walking.
Webb gives a grunt of frustration. I hear the door close, and his footsteps on the grass as he jogs to catch up with me.
False Flag (Battle Ground YA UK Dystopia Series Book 2) Page 18
