by Arno Joubert
He centered the crosshair on the shiny glint and pulled the trigger. He heard the double thwack that told him his aim was true.
Neil crawled back and aimed his rifle at the first shooter, unsure of whether the man was mortally wounded. He saw a movement and fired into the dune. The guy returned fire, his aim was high, not even close. They kept at this cat-and-mouse game for fifteen minutes before Neil heard the familiar whop-whop sound of rotor blades. The Medivac had arrived.
He aimed his scope at the entrance to the building Alexa had gone in. She appeared a second later, dragging the general behind her, bullets exploding around her as she ran.
Neil aimed at the first shooter, he was laying uncomfortably on his side, taking pot shots at Alexa and the General. Neil aimed and squeezed. At first Neil thought that he had missed, but then the man rolled onto his stomach and slumped forward, his face buried in the sand.
He watched Alexa through the scope again. The medics had helped her and the General into the chopper, and it was lifting into the air and banking steeply to its side, heading for Kabul, Neil guessed. He rolled down the dune and started packing their supplies.
Please be okay, please be okay, he repeated like a mantra as he packed up.
Alexa ducked low as the Blackhawk HH60 hovered in the air above them, the powerful rotor blades spraying sand and grit into her eyes. She dragged the General by his collar, holding onto him with both hands, pulling him backwards. Another bullet ricocheted off the ground beside them, and Alexa wondered why the shooter hadn’t managed to hit her yet, they were open targets.
She glanced down at Laiveaux. Shit. He was clutching his throat, blood seeping between his fingers, and had a bullet wound in his lower leg.
Two guys carrying rifles jumped down from the chopper and helped her drag the General into the aircraft. The helicopter rose into the air and banked steeply, away from the firing line.
Alexa took a seat on a bench next to Laiveaux. She felt helpless. Two medics were working furiously, trying to save the older man’s life. One inserted a drip into Laiveaux’s arm, the other pulled open a silver fridge filled with bags of blood. “What blood type is he?” he asked Alexa over his shoulder.
“How the fuck should I know?”
“Give him ringers and warm the O negative,” the man working with the drip said. “How’s his blood pressure?” The name tag on his chest said Williams.
The man rummaged in the fridge, looking for the right bag.
“Jackson, blood pressure?” Williams shouted, inserting another thick IV line into Laiveaux’s arm.
“Seventy over forty, he’s lost a lot of blood.”
The man nodded with pursed lips. “Ok, let’s keep him hypotensive, he’ll bleed less that way. He’s got a fractured leg and ribs, it’ll be difficult putting pressure on those.”
Jackson removed a bag from the fridge, inserting a plastic tube into it. He ran the tube around a device on a pole and clipped the bag onto the pole. He removed a large bag with white fluid and inserted the IV line that Williams was working with into the bag. “Ringers is a go.”
Williams moved over to the General’s throat. He waved Alexa over. “I need your help.”
She shuffled over and crouched next to the General. Laiveaux tried to speak, but he choked, a frothy mixture of blood spilling from his mouth.
“Keep still, General,” the medic said as he looked at Alexa. “He can’t breath properly, I need to perform a cric.”
Alexa’s entire body shook. “A crike?”
“A Cricothyroidotomy.” He held a metal tube in the air. “Look, I need to insert this into his windpipe.” He pointed at the other medic. “Jackson over here will help me get the damn thing in, but you need to keep on transfusing the General. Jackson show her how.”
The medic removed two bags of blood and put them into her hands. “Open the bag here, then connect it like this.” Alexa watched closely as he performed the procedure. “Then you squeeze it gently like your baby’s boobies…Sorry. You know what I mean. Get every last drop into him.”
She took the transfusion bag from the man.
“Okay, give me one hundred milligrams of Ketamine,” Williams said.
Jackson injected something into the IV line and looked up. “Okay, ready.”
“Let’s give it a minute. Don’t worry, General. You won’t feel a thing.”
Laiveaux closed his eyes.
They started working on his throat, pulling the flaps of skin apart.
He picked up a scalpel. “Okay, I’ll make a thirty millimeter longitudinal cut like this,” he said and slit through the skin. “Dab it, Jackson, I need to see what I’m doing.”
Jackson dabbed the blood away with hessian gauss.
“And now we pop the Cricothyroid membrane, like this.” He turned the scalpel around and used the blunt end to make a hole into the membrane.
Jackson held the tube over the opening and looked at Williams. “Ready?”
The man nodded.
Jackson slammed his palm onto the tube and it went straight into Laiveaux’s throat. Alexa could hear the air escape from the tube, and then the General’s chest moved rhythmically up and down as he started breathing normally.
Jackson sat back and leaned against the cockpit wall. “Shit, that’s the first time I’ve ever done that.” He looked at Alexa. “How many units?”
She had forgotten to connect another bag. Shit.
“Don’t worry,” Williams said, pushing her away. “I’ll do it.”
Alexa crawled back to the bench and rested her head on her arms. Williams started cutting her pants from her leg, inspecting the wound. It was her fault that Laiveaux was dying. Why did she always go barreling into dangerous situations like a bull in a China shop? There must have been a better way to have extracted the man? Why was she always angry? Her anger could cost the general his life.
They arrived in Kabul an hour later. The medics stretchered the General towards a waiting ambulance which rushed him to the National Military Hospital where he was taken directly into theatre.
She waited in front of the theatre while the doctors tried to persuade her to move to a hospital bed where her wound could be treated. She refused and eventually they had to tend to her while she sat in the chair, waiting expectantly. Neil joined her an hour later, shaking his head as the nurses inserted a drip into Alexa’s arm, but keeping his comments to himself.
Finally, the doors swung open and they pushed Laiveaux out on a trolly. Alexa jumped up. “How is he?”
A man removed a mask from his face and started pulling off his surgical gloves. He smiled at Alexa. “One tough nut, that commander of yours. He’s fine. He should recover in a couple of weeks.”
“Will he ever be able to speak again?”
The doctor smiled. “I know the cric that Williams performed looked dramatic, but yes, he’ll be able to speak as soon as he is well enough, a couple of days at most.”
She plonked down into the chair, holding her heart. “Thank God.”
She felt nauseous and her skin was burning up. “Please excuse me,” she said grabbing the saline bag attached to her arm and rushed to the bathroom.
She slammed the cubicle door closed and sat on the toilet. Her entire body was shaking. What was happening to her? It felt as if every cell in her system was shutting down. She felt spent. Utterly and truly spent. It was a massive effort to lift her arm.
She stood up and shuffled to the basin and splashed some water on her face. Her heart pounded in her chest. She tried to focus on the reflection in the mirror. Her face was ashen, lined with strain, and her lips were a dull red, like all the blood had drained from them.
The image blurred and swam back into focus, blurred again. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears.
Then the world went dark and she crashed to the floor.
She woke up five minutes later, laboriously sucking in her breaths. She lay there for a couple of minutes, her brow was sweaty and warm, but she felt cold
and shivered uncontrollably.
She stood up shakily and steadied herself in front of the mirror, shaking her head. “Get a grip, Alexa,” she said and tucked her damp fringe behind an ear. “Get a grip,” she whispered as she staggered out of the bathroom.
Alexa squeezed his hand as Laiveaux slowly opened his eyes, then blinked a couple of times. He tried to sit upright in the bed, but she pushed him down. “Wait, General, relax.”
He looked around uncertainly. “Where…Where am I?”
“You’re in the Val-de-Grâce hospital in Paris.”
“How long?”
“Four days.”
He closed his eyes and blew out a soft breath. “You’ve been here the entire time?”
She smiled. “Day and night.”
He swallowed, touched his neck. “My throat hurts.”
“The doctor said it would take a couple of weeks to get better.”
“Anything else that I should know of?”
Alexa laughed and squeezed his hand. “Nothing too serious. You have a broken leg and a couple of cracked ribs.”
“That’s good to know.” He turned to face her. “How is Yumi?”
She shrugged. “You know.”
He frowned. “No, I don’t know. What is wrong?”
She made a face. “Neil’s taking care of her. He takes her to school and feeds her and bathes her and puts her to bed after telling her a bedtime story.”
Laiveaux looked at her with a furrowed brow. “So what is the problem?”
Alexa let go of his hand and sat in a chair next to the bed. “Yumi comes to visit in the afternoons. I don’t know. I just can’t…”
“You can’t give her the attention that she deserves?”
Alexa’s face contorted into a sad grimace and she started sobbing.
“And you’re feeling guilty, right?”
She nodded again, wiping the tears away with the back of her hand. “I feel alone, General,” she sobbed. “I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to you.” She stood up and embraced the man.
He patted her back. “Now, now. Everything is okay.”
“I know it is now. I’m just so…tired.”
“Have a seat. Take a nap.”
She yawned and stretched her arms. “I think I might just do that.” She sat down in the chair, folding her legs beneath her and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Neil knocked on the door as he entered the room. Laiveaux looked up and smiled, and Yumi dashed to him. “Don’t jump on the bed,” Neil cautioned, but Laiveaux sat up and pulled her onto his lap, hugging her. He winked at Neil.
“How are you feeling, General?”
“On top of the world, Sergeant,” he said, casting a worried glance at where Alexa was sleeping on the chair, clutching a cushion to her chest. “Much better than Alexa.”
Neil chewed his lip as he slowly shook his head. He walked up to her and touched her shoulder. “Come on Alexa, you need to eat, let’s go home,” he said gently.
She pushed his hand away with a groan. “I’m tired.” She opened her eyes and blinked, rubbing her darkly circled eyes with her palms.
Neil glanced at Laiveaux who shrugged.
“You need to eat something, baby. You haven’t had a decent meal in days.”
She frowned, then stood up with a groan. “Eat? You want me to eat?”
Yumi wriggled off the bed and took Neil’s hand, sucking her thumb.
Alexa stood with her head bowed, her hands balled in fists. “How can you expect me to eat at a time like this?” she whispered. She looked up at Neil, eyes shiny with tears. “General Laiveaux almost died because of me and you want me to eat?” Her voice cracked as she spoke.
He smiled sheepishly and looked down at Yumi holding his hand. “Yumi misses you.”
Alexa sobbed and plopped into the chair. She blinked away a tear, looking up at the ceiling. She shook her head but said nothing.
There was a rap on the door, and Bruce’s head popped in. “Hello, hello. How’s it going with sleeping beauty and the ugly beast?”
Laiveaux propped himself up in bed and nodded at Bruce, a concerned expression on his face.
Bruce sauntered inside, his head tilted to the side as if to say, “What’s going on?”
Alexa was still staring at the ceiling, tears running down her cheeks. She started to sob as she pommeled her forehead with her palms.
Neil strode over and kneeled in front of her as he grabbed her hands. “Please don’t do that, Alexa.”
“Urgh!” she shouted and wrenched herself free. “Just leave me alone.” She jumped up and marched to the door. “Everyone, just leave me alone!”
She yanked the door open and slammed it shut behind her.
Laiveaux, Neil and Bruce exchanged curious glances.
Neil strode to the door. “Alexa, wait.” He yanked it open and sucked in a sharp breath. Alexa lay in a pitiful heap on the floor in front of him, passed out.
The doctor studied the chart at the foot of Alexa’s bed, scrawling some notes on the paper.
“What’s wrong with her?” Bruce asked.
The man shook his head. “Physically? Nothing. She is in tip top condition. Heartbeat, blood pressure everything is perfect.” His brow furrowed into a frown. Neil thought it was probably a permanent feature of his appearance now.
“So why is she in a coma?” Bruce asked.
The doctor looked up and the frown disappeared. He lifted his shoulders an inch. “Look, this isn’t a coma, more like a deep sleep. We’ve done all the scans. Brain function is normal. Her testosterone levels are off the charts. Has she been in a stressful situation recently?”
Bruce chuckled. “That’s the only situation she knows, Doctor.” He walked to the man, stood in front of him, his hands in his pockets. “She faces life and death situations on a daily basis. She’s an Interpol agent, anti-terrorist unit.”
The man nodded thoughtfully.
“She lost her father a year ago,” Neil said, preferring not to mention that Alexa had shot her dad for betraying her and almost getting her and her team killed. She had berated herself for weeks, Neil trying to convince her that more people would have died if she had allowed him to live.
The doctor nodded again, scribbled some notes on the chart. He looked up expectantly.
“Less than a month ago, she was locked up and tortured for more than a day, she had two broken ribs, a shattered collar bone and internal hemorrhaging. Lacerations and bruising over most of her body, twenty-five stitches in total,” Bruce said.
The man’s eyebrows shot up. “Tortured?”
Neil nodded. “Yes, she was in a bad state.”
The Doctor tsk-tsked. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”
“And we recently adopted our daughter, Yumi, does that count?” Neil asked.
The doctor blinked a couple of times and scribbled some more. “Why not? Keep it coming, folks.”
Bruce scratched his chin. “Then some terrorists captured her Supreme Commander, General Alain Laiveaux and almost killed him. She loves him like her own father.” He shrugged. “I guess she felt it was her fault that he had almost died.”
The doctor folded over the chart and continued scribbling profusely.
“And she had a terrible childhood, she—”
“Enough, enough already,” the man said lifting a hand. “I’ve run out of damn space.” He clicked the pen and slipped it into his breast pocket, shoved his hands into his pockets. He turned to Neil, deep in thought. “Any one of these incidents could have caused a severe breakdown such as this. Who is she, superwoman?”
Neil smiled. “Almost.”
“Was she debriefed after these…,uhm, incidents?” the Doctor asked Bruce.
Bruce nodded. “Every time.”
“By whom?”
“By myself and the general.”
“Any one of you have a degree in psychology?”
Bruce shook his head. “No, but—”
> The doctor held up a hand. “Look, Colonel, she couldn’t have gone on like this forever after experiencing what she had. She’s had a severe emotional breakdown, post traumatic stress, most probably.” He clicked the pen as he spoke, a grave expression on his face. “Her mind couldn’t take it any longer and it’s forcing her to rest. A proper psychologist would have detected the symptoms a long time ago.”
Neil nodded. Alexa wasn’t into following protocol. “How long before she’s better?”
He threw his arms in the air. “A day, a month? Who knows? Different people handle it differently.”
“Okay, then I’m taking her home,” Neil said.
Bruce grabbed his shoulder and pulled him around to face him. “What? Are you crazy? You can’t. They’ll take better care of her here.”
Neil shrugged off Bruce’s hand. “No, they won’t.” He started packing her belongings into her bag. “She needs to be surrounded by family and loved ones, in a familiar environment.” He glanced up at Bruce. “You heard what the doctor said, she needs to sleep. And she can get plenty of that at home.”
Bruce took a step toward Neil. “You saying I’m not family? She stays right here,” Bruce said, grabbing her bag from Neil.
“She doesn’t need a hospital, she needs some time off, you asshole!” Neil shouted.
Bruce’s eyes had murder in them. “You touch her, I’ll kill you Sergeant,” he said, poking his finger in Neil’s face.
Neil looked at Bruce for a couple of seconds. “Look Bruce, I’m trying to see things from your point of view, but I can’t stick my head that far up my ass.”
“You little runt, I’ll—“
“Enough,” Alexa shouted, propping herself up on the bed. “What are you doing?” she asked, wiping her eyes sleepily.
Neil hurried to her side, took her hand. “You have combat fatigue, Alexa.”
The Doctor strode to her side, shining a light into her eyes and examining them. “You’ve experienced a lot of stress, Miss Guerra.” He switched off the light and nodded. “I’ve prescribed some rest,” he said with a smile, putting a hand on her brow.
