Scourge of the Siren

by Bella Settarra

  “Step on it!”

  The medic’s command jerked him back to the present. The ambulance sped up even more and the older man adjusted her oxygen. They all rocked with the speed of the vehicle.

  “Wh–what is it?” Eban suddenly felt numb. This was all so unreal.

  “Don’t worry, sir, she’s still breathing, just having a little difficulty that’s all.” He adjusted her mask again and turned back to Eban with a weak smile. “The sooner we get her hooked up to a ventilator the better. She absorbed a load of smoke, I’m afraid, and with the burn on her leg she’s going to be sick for quite a while.”

  Sick, he could cope with. Dead was another matter altogether.

  “Can I touch her?”

  “Just through the sheets, then, we can’t risk any infection. Her hands are badly burned, too.”

  There didn’t seem to be a part of her body which hadn’t been burned. She was going to be in agony when she woke up—if she woke up!

  He placed his hand gently over hers where the sheet still covered it. Intense heat permeated through the thin fabric. Her face was bright red, even in the dim light of the ambulance.

  “She’ll start to blister soon,” the medic explained kindly.

  “She’s so beautiful.” Eban gazed at her face, still covered by the oxygen mask.

  “We’re here,” called a voice from the front cab, while the blond man said something into the radio.

  The doors were opened before any of them had got out, and a medical team with a stretcher trolley were already preparing to take her. The balding man stood and unfastened the stretcher she was on and they swiftly lifted it onto the trolley. The driver had already gone inside to give details to the staff, while the blond medic helped rush her inside. The balding man helped Eban into a waiting wheelchair and followed them in.

  “Where are they?” Eban screwed his eyes up in the blinding light as he looked around the hospital corridor. There was no sign of them.

  “They’ve taken her straight to theater.”

  “I need to go, too.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. They need to do their job.”

  “And I need to do mine.” A nurse with ash-blonde hair and big green eyes had just walked up to them. “I’m Dayla and I need to take you into a side room for a while,” she said, smiling broadly at Eban.

  “Good luck, buddy.” The paramedic patted Eban’s shoulder as he made his way to the coffee machine. Eban nodded his appreciation.

  “I need to go with her,” Eban told the nurse. “Please.”

  “You can see her later. I need to get you seen to first. Anyhow, she’ll be in theater for quite a while from what I saw. You’ve got time to get yourself sorted and get some sleep, and then you’ll be able to sit with her when she comes out.” She wheeled him into a small, neat room and helped him lie on the bed. As he lay on his back he dissolved into a coughing fit. She added more pillows to raise his chest, keeping his oxygen mask firmly in place.

  “Deep breaths now, Eban.”

  He lay back and inhaled slowly. His head felt muzzy. Dayla left his mask in place and moved down the bed to inspect the burns on his shins. Peeling off the loose dressings the paramedics had used, she peered at the damage. She must have sensed him staring at her, as she lifted her head.

  “Relax, Eban. Get some sleep. Your body needs it.”

  Something was nagging at his brain though. There was no way he could relax. He took a deep breath of oxygen before pulling the mask to one side.

  “Nurse, I need to tell you something. I’m scared that she’s been…attacked.”

  Dayla frowned and slowly walked back toward him.

  “Do you mean sexually?” Her competent voice was calm and quiet.

  “Yes. He’s been pestering her, and she wouldn’t have gone without her clothes on. She was scared of him.” He gulped for air as he forced the words out.

  She nodded gravely and replaced his mask. “OK, I’ll have it checked out. Try not to worry. Take some deep breaths now.” She held the mask in place as he heaved air into his tired body. There was nothing more he could for now. Closing his eyes, he let the heavy feeling envelope him and welcomed the darkness that followed.

  Chapter 17

  “Why don’t you go home and freshen up?” Jerusha spoke gently to her son, who had just spent another night sleeping in the hospital chair. If it could be called sleeping! Each time he closed his eyes he could see Amaranda’s body slumped in the well of the burning boat, flames licking at her right leg. That leg now lay under a cage to prevent the bedcovers touching it. She had needed skin grafts to save it, but the doctor had reassured him it would be OK in time. What skin hadn’t been physically burned had been badly scorched. Her whole body would be in pain for a long time.

  He lifted his head from the side of the bed, where he was leaned over Amaranda’s bandaged hand. A machine was still beeping relentlessly. An oxygen mask was strapped to her beautiful face, and she had tubes and wires hanging from her body in all directions. A ventilator forced clean air in and out of her lungs. An IV fed her Morphine-Plus.

  “I can’t leave her, Mom.” His voice was croaky, his throat tight from sobbing. That and the smoke. He hadn’t left her since they brought her in. He’d even stood outside the theater while she had surgery, giving Dayla the slip as soon as he’d come round.

  “Eban, you need to get a shower. You want to be fresh and clean for her when she wakes up don’t you?”

  When. When. When. He had to keep reminding himself it was “when” she wakes up, not “if.”

  “Yeah, bro, take the hint. You smell!” Pascal had followed Jerusha into the spotless side room. His joviality and positive thinking seemed to be all that had kept Eban going for the past few days.

  “Thanks a lot, brother!” Eban found it hard to smile.

  “You’re welcome. Go on, you have time. That fit blonde nurse —Dayla? —reckons it’ll be a while yet before Amaranda wakes up.”

  Eban looked down at her gorgeous face, willing her to open her eyes.

  “The longer she rests, the stronger she’ll be when she wakes up.” Jerusha patted his arm soothingly.

  “I know.” He did know. He also knew that she was out of danger now and would wake up when she was ready. The rape test had come back negative—thank God—nonetheless it didn’t stop him still wanting to kill Taneli with his bare hands! He was still impatient for her to open those lovely big brown eyes again, though.

  “You need a ride home, bro?”

  “That’d be good, thanks.”

  Jerusha had taken his car home days ago. Between them, she and Pascal had driven to the hospital every day, while Eban just stayed, keeping vigil by Amaranda’s bedside. He hadn’t wanted to leave her, at first because they weren’t sure she’d pull through, and since yesterday, when the test results told them she was over the worst, because he had a fear of not being there when she woke up.

  “There’s another report from the island in the paper today,” Pascal said with a grin as they made their way back to the house.

  Eban raised a weary eyebrow in question.

  “Your friends sure had some fun with all those cops and reporters on the island.”

  Eban grinned, remembering the headlines which had hit the tabloids since the enquiry—D.I. looking for Prostitutes, “I am not interested in Women,” admits D.I., and even ‘Whores d’oevres served up on paradise island’ – the world press had had a field day!

  “Has that dumb-ass D.I. resigned yet?” Eban asked hopefully.

  “It’s just a matter of time, bro,” Pascal replied with a laugh.

  They had put money on how long it would take.

  “At least I can get to my own front door this time.” Eban let them in, remembering the last time he was here, fighting his way through reporters.

  “They’ll probably be back again once Amaranda wakes up. It’s a good story.” Pascal grinned, his teeth gleaming from his tanned face.

  “They can leave her the h
ell alone,” Eban growled, making his way upstairs.

  “At least they apologized publicly for all that shit about her being a Siren.” Pascal always looked on the bright side.

  * * * *

  Eban stretched as he walked into the kitchen a short while later, clean and refreshed.

  “You’ve time for a nap before we head back if you want it. Your mom just rang, there’s no change yet.” Pascal handed him a cup of fresh coffee and a slice of Jerusha’s carrot cake.

  “No, I’m fine.” Eban took his snack and sat at the small table, where Pascal already had today’s paper open.

  “They find the bodies?” Eban leaned over the newspaper, frowning.

  “Yep, what’s left of them.” Pascal grinned.

  “I wouldn’t have wanted that job,” Eban said, sipping his coffee. “What’s it say?”

  “Somebody Help Me,” Pascal read. “D.I. Davin Benabu, recently dubbed ‘D.I. Haven’t Got a Clue’, following a series of botched investigations on the island of Refrainia, has been left red-faced again today following his appeal for expert advice in interpreting evidence. Bungling Benabu, of Eastland’s West Quay P.D., recently launched a $20 million operation to dredge the coast of a small outcrop, known as Destiny Rock, adjoining the now-famous island of Refrainia. They were in search of bodies of sailors believed to have been murdered and mutilated by the women of the island. The gruesome mission, undertaken by a group of twenty-two highly skilled scuba divers, unearthed numerous skeletons, and some partially decayed body-parts that appear to have been under attack.

  When asked for indications regarding the deaths of the unfortunate sailors, Prof Ira Hitzig, Head of the West Quay Marine Biology Dept, issued the following statement. ‘Given the amount of wreckage surrounding the skeletons it is fair to assume the sailors drowned following shipwrecks. Their bodies have evidently been consumed by fish or sea-creatures, as one would expect.’ Prof. Hitzig also added the following comment. ‘It does not take a genius to work this one out.’”

  Eban and Pascal exploded into fits of laughter for the first time in a week.

  “I can’t wait to show this to Amaranda,” Eban said, still giggling as he wiped his eyes, “Talking of which, we’d better head back.”

  Pascal grabbed his keys and the paper, and they chuckled about the article all the way to the hospital.

  “You’re looking much better.” Jerusha smiled at Eban as he took his seat next to the bed.

  “Let me treat you to a coffee, I’ll tell you all about it.” Pascal winked as he took her arm and led her out to the refectory.

  “You have got to wake up, soon, sweetheart.” Eban spoke softly to Amaranda. “There’s so much to tell you.”

  He picked up a real estate brochure he had left on the bedside locker. He had scribbled notes all over it, around the photograph of a beautiful house surrounded by fields.

  “You’re gonna love this place. “He smiled as he held the picture up to her face. Her eyes were still closed and the machine beeped away beside her. He put the brochure down on the bed, by her hand. Looking back at the locker, he saw the pile of bridal magazines he and Jerusha had bought for her.

  “You need to choose your dress, too, sweetheart,” he told her, smiling. “We’re going to have the most perfect wedding. You wait until you see the surprise I’ve lined up for you, you’re gonna love it, flower.”

  “You haven’t called me that since we left the island.” She murmured the words but he heard them clearly through her oxygen mask.

  Eban shot to his feet. Her eyes were still closed, but her mouth was moving, smiling now.

  “Sweetheart, Amaranda, I love you so much.” Tears filled his eyes as he pressed the call button for the nurse. He gazed longingly into her beautiful face. Please open your eyes!

  Dayla quickly walked into the room, followed by a very excited Jerusha.

  “Amaranda, sweetheart, talk to me,” he pleaded.

  The nurse flicked a few switches and carefully removed the oxygen mask.

  Amaranda coughed before slowly opening her eyes.

  “Amaranda.” Eban almost pounced on her.

  “Give her some space,” Dayla urged, and he took a small step back.

  He stared into her face. She looked beautiful. There were bruises on her forehead and chin where she had been flung down into the well of the boat. Her face was scorched. She looked fragile and delicate. Her eyes looked weak, as they adjusted to the light and sights around her. She smiled up at him, and her eyes lit a little. His heart lifted.

  “Hi,” she murmured.

  “I love you, flower.”

  “I love you, too,” she mumbled, then began coughing again.

  The nurse stood forward and helped her to raise her head a little, supporting her with the pillows. When the coughing continued, Dayla reached for the oxygen mask.

  “It’s all right, honey, take some deep breaths,” she urged, placing it over her nose and mouth.

  “Is she OK?” Eban hardly dared ask.

  “She will be. She inhaled a lot of smoke. It’s settled on her lungs,” Dayla told him with a reassuring smile.

  “How’s she doing?” A doctor walked in, putting on his stethoscope.

  Amaranda was still coughing weakly.

  Eban shot an anxious look to his mom.

  “Her chest is very weak,” the doctor stated, examining her. “She should be OK with plenty of rest.”

  Eban sighed with relief. He took a step forward and held her hand. He felt her whole body shake as she coughed.

  “Take a deep breath,” the doctor told her.

  Her eyes kept closing but she took a breath. It seemed to take all her concentration. Eban squeezed her hand gently and she opened her eyes and looked up at him as she breathed out slowly. He smiled at her as she took a few more deep breaths and finally stopped coughing.

  “She’s exhausted,” the doctor said after checking her heart again. “Let her sleep now.”

  Pascal was standing in the open doorway, watching. “Shall I take your mom home?” he offered quietly, as the doctor left.

  “I am rather tired, dear. Will you be all right, Eban?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine now,” he said softly as he sat back down with a contented sigh.

  Chapter 18

  Three weeks later Amaranda was finally allowed to go home. She was becoming stir-crazy sitting in that hospital bed, and had read every bridal and home magazine imaginable.

  “Can we go shopping later?” she asked eagerly as she limped into the kitchen. She was still quite weak and had a bad cough.

  “No. You can surf the net for your dress and that’s it.” Eban had become very masterful lately. He’d already booked the wedding, made all the arrangements, and put a deposit on the house.

  “Welcome home, dear.” Jerusha met her with a gentle hug.

  “How are you feeling?” Lamech greeted her with a kiss and a light squeeze.

  “Frustrated,” Amaranda admitted with a smile. “Eban won’t let me do anything. He’s shown me pictures of our new house and I can’t wait to get in and look around. We’re going to need all kinds of stuff to go in it and he won’t let me go shopping. I’m going crazy here.”

  Jerusha laughed, loading up the tea tray.

  “Well let’s sit out in the sunshine and talk about the wedding, then.”

  “OK. I’ve seen some beautiful dresses in those magazines you left me.”

  “Mom’s already written the guest list,” Eban said gingerly, offering round the cups.

  “Great. How many?” Amaranda still hadn’t met many of the family, and she knew some of Eban’s friends were still at sea.

  “That depends,” Jerusha said cagily, offering round the cake.

  “Gosh, I’ve missed your carrot cake,” Amaranda said, eagerly taking a bite. “I’ve lost pounds in that hospital, the food’s not half as nice as yours, Jerusha.” She sensed a little tension in the air and raised her eyebrows quizzically, looking from one to the oth
er.

  “I need to ask you about the guests,” Jerusha said slowly, tapping crumbs from her fingers.

  “Invite anyone you like. I don’t know anyone.” She took another bite of cake.

  “It’s not quite that simple, is it, dearest?” Lamech turned his pale-blue eyes to his wife as he bit his lip.

  “Mom and Dad want to know how you feel about Raizel and Seth Oris,” Eban explained with an apologetic expression.

  “They feel awful about Taneli,” Jerusha said hurriedly. “They knew there was something wrong but they never suspected drugs. They are pleased he’s locked up, at least now he’s out of trouble and he’ll have to go to rehab.”

  “We quite understand if you don’t want them at your wedding,” Lamech said.

  “I don’t think they should be there,” Eban stated adamantly. “Their asshole son almost killed you. He’d have you on drugs if he had his way, you had to have your stomach pumped as it was, thanks to that shithead! Sorry, Mom.” Eban had spent a lot of time apologizing for his language in the past few weeks.

  “Yes but his parents aren’t to blame, Eban,” Amaranda said gently, stroking his arm. “Your folks have been friends for decades. We can’t blame Raizel and Seth for what he did. They must feel bad enough having their son in jail, they don’t need to lose their friends, too. I think they should be invited.”

  “That settles it, then.” Lamech nodded with a satisfied smile, while Jerusha leant over and kissed Amaranda on the cheek.

  Amaranda flushed. She loved being part of a family. After they finished their tea, she and Jerusha spent the afternoon gazing at wedding dresses on Eban’s laptop. Eban and his father took a leisurely walk around the garden, discussing plans for planting even more flowers and building a summerhouse in one corner. The men then took some beer and sat on the decking, talking about something which Amaranda couldn’t quite hear, but guessed it was to do with their new house. She felt a warm glow inside and smiled to herself.