Operation Motherland ac-6

by Scott Andrews

"Who operated on me while I was out? Was it you?"

  "No, Doctor Cox, he flew back to the main staging area with the general."

  "Shit. But is the OR still in place? Did they strike the OR?"

  She looked at me and gasped as she realised what I was suggesting.

  "No, it's still there, hooked up to the generator and everything."

  "Right, you," I said, pointing to the Yank soldier. "What's your name?"

  "Jamal, Ma'am."

  "Right, Jamal, pick this man up and take him to the OR now. Sue, wheel me downstairs. We have to work fast if we're going to save him."

  Sue blanched. "I'm not qualified to…"

  "No, but I am. I'll direct you. Sue, it's his only chance. We can do this."

  She had gone white, but she nodded. "Ok," she whispered.

  Jamal shoved himself past us and reached down to remove Lee, but Tariq blocked his way with a sneer and did it himself, holding Lee back as we moved away. I so wanted to stop and hold Lee, comfort him, feel the reality that he was back. But there was time for tearful reunions later.

  "Sue, wheel me downstairs," I ordered. "We've got work to do."

  The operating room that Blythe had used to fix me up had been erected in the kitchen. Ironically, it was the same room I'd used for my fake surgery on the captain who'd been shot here. I tried not to think about what I'd done that day, about the young soldier dying in my arms after I slit his throat. Too much blood on my hands.

  A polythene clean-room had been erected using gaffer tape, and there was a makeshift airlock through which you entered the sterile area.

  Jamal was standing inside the doorway, still holding John, looking unsure about what to do when Sue wheeled me in. Mrs Atkins entered behind us.

  I saw a rack of scrubs in the corner, a tub of alcohol handwash by the sink and a pile of tissue hats and facemasks beside it.

  "Is he still breathing?" I asked as we entered.

  Jamal nodded.

  "Good. No time for protocol now. Jamal, get him on the operating table then get out again." He did so. "Back upstairs, help the others. Mrs Atkins, you're going to help Sue perform surgery."

  She nodded briskly. Did nothing faze her?

  "Right, both of you, take your shoes off, scrub up in the sink and get those hats and masks on. Where are the instruments?"

  "Over there." Sue pointed to a trolley with a metal tray on top of it. In it rested a collection of surgical instruments, some still covered in blood.

  "Shit. I suppose boiling water's out of the question?" I asked. Without a word Mrs Atkins walked behind the polythene sheets and I heard a click. She popped out again. "Kettle's on."

  "Then let's get to work."

  Lee

  I sat on the landing, arms wrapped around my knees, rocking back and forth with my eyes closed, my clothes slick with my father's blood.

  I felt a hand on my shoulder but I ignored it. It squeezed, trying to attract my attention. I reached up and batted it away. Then someone put their hand across my mouth. I opened my eyes, ready to shout, but Tariq's nose was an inch from mine and he had his finger to his lips. When he saw that I was with him he held up four fingers and pointed down. I saw past him to Jamal, who stood at the top of the stairs, gun raised, craning across the banister to look down into the entrance hall.

  Tariq leaned forward and whispered into my ear.

  "Wrong ear," I muttered. He switched.

  "Sorry," he said. "At least four coming in the front, probably more out back. It was a trap, Lee. They must have been waiting for us to make a move."

  "Dad?"

  "In the kitchen. Matron and the others are operating on him now."

  "Right, let's go."

  "I think we…" he began, but I was already on my feet and moving past him. I lifted my machine gun to my waist with my left hand, took my browning out with my right, and walked past Tariq and Jamal before they could react. I walked quickly, focused and calm, straight down the stairs, peripherally aware of Tariq running to stop me. As I descended I saw two soldiers moving cautiously through the entrance hall, silently checking the rooms. One of them saw me, but before he could warn his colleague or bring his weapon to bear I opened fire with the machine gun.

  The bullets raked across his body, flinging him backwards as I crouched and fired the browning, taking the other soldier three times in the chest. I stood up and kept moving.

  Tariq fell into step beside me.

  "They'll have heard that," he said wearily, like he was too tired to be angry.

  "Good." I said coldly.

  A stream of bullets flew past our heads. I dived down the last three steps, spinning in mid air and letting off some shots at the shooter in the office door. I missed, but the doorframe splintered, momentarily distracting the gunman. Tariq stepped over me and shot the guy in the head.

  I'd hit the hard tiled floor with my bad shoulder but I hardly even noticed the pain. I felt a knot of hatred in my belly as I leapt up. These fuckers had shot my dad and I wasn't going to stop until every last one of them dead.

  "Fucking deathwish Terminator shit," muttered Tariq.

  I chambered another round and kept moving without acknowledging his sour disapproval. I thought: this must be what it feels like to be Rowles.

  "Stryker," I barked at Jamal, who was halfway down the stairs. He nodded and ran to the vehicle, still jammed in the front door. I heard gunfire but didn't look back as Tariq and I walked into the school, guns raised. Past the staircase was a passage that led to the kitchen and the courtyard beyond it. Just as I was reaching forward to open the door, it swung open. I fired without hesitation, putting four rounds into the stomach of the soldier before me. Tariq opened fire beside me, sending a hail of bullets over the head of the falling soldier, wiping out the two men behind him. They fired back even as his bullets hit, but their shots went wide.

  The second door on the right was the kitchen, and I ran inside. I could see a polythene tent. Inside it, Matron was directing Sue from her wheelchair as the nurse leaned over the kitchen table working on Dad.

  "Time to go!" I shouted.

  "We need two minutes to stabilise him," Jane yelled back.

  A burst of gunfire came from behind me.

  "No problem," I said, turning and opening fire at the soldiers coming towards me.

  So help me, I smiled as I took their lives. Then Tariq and I walked on, looking for more.

  Jane

  The third and final bullet landed with a clang as Sue dropped it into the small metal dish.

  "What now?" she asked.

  "His left lung's collapsed," I said. "He's drowning in his own blood. We need to aspirate. Have we got a tube of any kind?"

  Mrs Atkins stepped across to a metal trolley cluttered with implements. She rifled through it and then waved a piece of clear plastic tube.

  "Great. Sue, you need to puncture the lung and shove that in."

  Sue took up her scalpel and got to work. I leaned forward so I could shout in John's ear.

  "John, John Keegan. I need you to concentrate, John. Focus on my voice. I need you to take a deep breath, okay? Very deep, when I say. Can you do that?"

  His eyes flickered and he moaned. I took that as a yes.

  "Ready," said Sue, holding the tube, which now stuck out of his side.

  "Now, John, breathe deep," I said, willing him to obey.

  He gasped, then sucked air in through his mouth. It bubbled and gargled in him, then the tube filled with blood and the lung drained its load on to the floor.

  I breathed a big sigh of relief. "Good."

  There was the sudden shocking sound of gunfire from somewhere in the building. Sue and I exchanged worried glances, but she shrugged. Not our problem yet.

  "What next?" Sue asked.

  "Now let's patch and seal. We need some superglue. There's some in a tupperware box under the sink."

  The gunfire resumed, louder and closer, as Mrs Atkins retrieved the small tube.

  "Now glue
the entry wounds together. I've a feeling we're going to be moving him before we're finished."

  Sue was a calm and efficient nurse. When all this was done with, if she wanted to stay, I'd train her up as a doctor. We needed all the doctors we could get.

  "Done," she said.

  "Mrs Atkins, roll him over. Sue, come here."

  The door crashed open.

  "Time to go," yelled Lee.

  "We need two more minutes to stabilise him," I shouted. I think he replied, but it was drowned out by gunfire. Then he was gone.

  Mrs Atkins had rolled John on to his side so Sue and I could examine the exit wounds. One in particular bothered me. I reached into it and ran my gloved finger around his insides.

  "Shit," I muttered. "Sue, glue the other two but this one you're going to have to make an incision, widen it, then go in and tie-off the artery. Can you do that?"

  "Yes, Ma'am."

  The sound of gunfire was moving around the outside, to the courtyard. It was relentless and heavy; whoever Lee and the others were holding off, there were a lot of them. A sudden explosion blew in the windows and made Sue scream as one wall of the polythene clean-room came free and tumbled to the floor. She recovered her wits quickly and proceeded, her teeth gritted with determination.

  She looked up and said "Done" the second Lee and Tariq ran into the room.

  "Can we move him?" gasped Lee.

  "Yes," I replied. "Sue, can you…" But she already had the wounded man in a fireman's lift.

  Tariq leaned out of the door and let off a stream of fire then said: "Now!"

  He went first, Sue and John behind, then Mrs Atkins pushing me in the chair, as Lee brought up the rear, firing short bursts to cover our retreat.

  We left the corridor and came out into the main entrance hall. The armoured car was still stuck in the doorway, but the gun on top was pointing outside, laying down suppressing fire at the moat bridge.

  Tariq climbed up on to the roof, then Sue and he manhandled John through the hatch and down into the car. I could see Sue talking urgently to Tariq as they worked, then she turned and leapt down, running past us all, back into the school.

  "Where the hell is she going?" I shouted.

  "Tell you later," replied Tariq, his head poking out of the hatch. "Now get in here."

  Lee and Mrs Atkins carried me up as Tariq fired past us, and I made an ungainly entrance to the car. Lee was still firing as he closed the hatch above us.

  "Go!" he shouted. Tariq put his foot down and tore us free of the doorway, reversing across the bridge, turning, and sending us speeding down the drive.

  The Stryker started to clang as bullets raked the shell, but Jamal kept going and eventually the firing faded away in the distance. Once he was sure we were clear, he switched on the satnav and we headed for Fairlawne.

  John was laid out on the bench opposite me and as our pursuers fell away I saw that he wasn't breathing. Lee was already performing CPR as Mrs Atkins held his father steady. Lee's face was splattered with blood and tears as he breathed and beat the life back into his dad. Eventually he shouted "Got him," and I saw John's chest rise and fall as he began to breathe again.

  Situated outside the village of Shipbourne, the Fairlawne estate is a huge area of land once owned by the Cazlet family, horse breeders to the crown. Bought by a member of the Saudi royal family in the eighties, the Palladian house was fully renovated and restored. It even had a swimming pool. In many ways it was a better site for St Mark's than Groombridge – bigger, better equipped and closer to Hildenborough, where we had friends. But we chose Groombridge because of its moat, which we thought made it easier to defend. Now that we'd abandoned our second home in a year to enemy forces, it didn't seem like the smartest choice.

  We were able to drive up to the front door without Tariq reporting any signs of life. Good, they'd been following my instructions. Secrecy was the best defence.

  As long as we'd evaded pursuit – and Jamal, who'd both been watching the road behind us through the periscope, assured us that we had – then we should be safe, for a time at least.

  Lee popped the hatch and climbed out, and a few minutes later a gang of boys had gathered to help me out.

  I was home.

  John had coped well with the journey. He was still unconscious but he didn't seem to be in any discomfort and his breathing and pulse were strong. When I looked up after checking him over I saw Lee watching me anxiously. Just for an instant I could see the frightened boy hiding behind the brutal facade. I gave him a smile of reassurance.

  "He'll be fine," I said. But I was lying. I needed to get him into surgery again as quickly as possible, and this time I wouldn't have Sue to help me.

  The boy relaxed, the mask came back down. Lee nodded briskly. "Good. Let's get you both inside."

  We'd left my wheelchair behind in our rush to escape, so I made an undignified entrance, carried between Lee and Tariq past a sea of excited children, standing around the main entrance hall. Their murmuring faded away to shocked silence when I passed through. I tried to smile and put a brave face on it, but I was a sallow-cheeked, hollow-eyed wreck. I cursed the staff for not keeping them away. I had planned to clean myself up and make a dignified entrance at dinner; now that was blown to hell. I'd just have to make the best of it, but I knew that morale would suffer.

  I couldn't worry about that now, though. I began issuing instructions for the creation of an operating theatre.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Lee

  I rubbed the sticking plaster that covered the cotton wool patch on the crux of my arm and wondered whether my light-headedness was a result of my ear injury, blood loss following the transfusion, or stress.

  The sun was just rising above the horizon as I sat on the grass in the Fairlawne gardens, trying to calm myself and reflect on the events of the last twenty-four hours. So much to take in. Matron had been working on my dad for over half of it, all through the night without a break.

  I heard the soft crunch of wheels on gravel approaching from behind. The sound changed as the wheelchair was pushed on to the grass. It came to a halt beside me and I heard someone walking away. I didn't look up, just sat there staring at my feet.

  "If you're talking, I can't hear you," I said. "You'll have to speak up, I'm basically deaf."

  "I've done all I can," said Jane eventually. "Your blood made all the difference. If he lives through the day, I think he'll be fine. But he's in bad shape."

  "I know. And thanks." I looked up at her and smiled.

  Her eyes were deep sunken with big brown rings around them and bags beneath. Her hair was all gone, shaved clean, and the left side of her scalp was covered by a large white dressing, which marked the site of her surgery. She was pale and emaciated, gaunt and wrecked, huddled in a wheelchair without even the strength to push herself from place to place.

  "Jesus, Matron, you look like shit."

  She laughed at me and said: "Look who's talking!"

  "I didn't recognise you at first."

  "And I thought that your dad was you. He sounds like you. Or you sound like him, whatever. Through the glass, in silhouette, I was sure it was you. When I thought you'd been shot…" She left the sentence hanging.

  We sat there in silence for a while, watching the sun rise behind the trees. Then I told her my story, everything that had happened from the moment I'd walked away, all those months ago. She listened patiently and never asked any questions, letting me tell it straight.

  When I'd finished she reached down and ran her fingers across my scalp.

  "I'm glad you're back, Lee. I missed you."

  I didn't meet her eyes, nervous of what I'd see there. I wouldn't admit it to myself, but if I looked up and all I saw was maternal affection, I think that would have been the straw that broke the camel's back. So I kept staring at my shoes, not wanting to know yet what it was she might feel for me. Better to leave it undefined for now. There was still so much to do.

  "So where is
everyone? What happened here?" I asked. And it was her turn to fill me in. As I listened to her tale I grew more and more angry at myself. Angry and ashamed.

  "I should never have left," I said when she finished. "If I'd been here…"

  "The same things would have happened, but there'd have been more shooting, probably," she said. "As it is, everyone's safe."

  "Not Rowles and Caroline."

  "No, not them. We have to decide what we're going to do about that."

  "I have a few ideas," I said.

  "But look at us, Lee. What chance do we have against Blythe and his army? A crippled matron, a deaf schoolboy and an Iraqi – did he say he was a blogger?"

  "Yeah."

  "An Iraqi blogger, some guy we hardly know and a man with three bullet holes in him. It's not exactly a task force."

  "We have to do something," I insisted.

  "Yes, we do. We have to hide. Get ourselves well, build up our strength. Bide our time. Come up with a plan."

  "And while we're doing that, they secure their position, terrorise the populace, establish martial law across the south of England. No," I said forcefully. "They have to be stopped now. Because once they start setting up bases across the country they'll be too widely dispersed to fight. Our only chance is to take them all out in one fell swoop, while they're still all collected in the one place."

  "Oh well, if that's all it takes," she mocked, "I'll call the mothership and get them to nuke Salisbury Plain from orbit, shall I? I want Rowles and Caroline back as much as you do, more so, probably. But there comes a point where you have to cut your losses. We can't win this one, Lee. We just can't."

  I couldn't believe what I was hearing, and I felt the anger rising inside me as she spoke. I stood up and leaned over her.

  "What happened to the Matron I knew, huh?" I spat furiously. "The woman who'd do anything to protect the kids in her care; the woman who'd stop at nothing to ensure the safety of others; the woman who stood up to Mac when no-one else would; the woman who showed me what true courage is? What happened to her? You don't even look like her."

  I walked away in disgust, knowing even as I did so that I was out of order, being cruel and callous when I should have been kind and caring. But I couldn't help it. I was brim full of fury that had nowhere to go, so I took it out on her.