by Eric Meyer
* * *
After a scary ride through the streets of the town, Greg pulled up outside the Ghazni Provincial Hospital, and they raced inside. The physician was still inside the operating theatre, and they had to pace up and down before they had any news. It was an hour and a half before he emerged, covered in blood and his face gray with exhaustion. Both men jumped on him.
"What's happening?"
He shook his head. "I'm sorry, I've done my best, but I don't know if it's enough. I managed to stop the internal bleeding, but the infection is still raging inside her body. I just don't have the specialist antibiotics or even the knowledge to be certain of containing the infection. She should have been in Jalalabad."
"The dog?" Greg asked him.
His face lightened. "The dog, oh, yes. The bullet went straight through his body. I stitched up the wound, and the bleeding has stopped. He'll be fine once the damage has healed. Perhaps he'll have a slight limp, but he'll live." He chuckled, "Maybe I should have been a veterinary surgeon after all."
He went to walk away, but Stoner took hold of his sleeve. "Would she make it to Jalalabad, could she live that long? We have the Unimog ambulance outside, would it help her chances if we got there?"
He thought for a moment and nodded. "Normally I'd say yes, it could make all the difference. In this case, I just don't know. The journey could kill her even quicker than the infection."
"Prep her for the journey, Doc. We'll take her in the Unimog. I want you to come with us in case she needs treatment on the way."
He looked shocked. "But, my work here, I can't just leave."
"There're about forty bales of opium inside the vehicle. We'll need to find somewhere to stash all of it to make room for you and the patient. Do you have a storeroom we could use, one where only you have the key?"
It took him a second to make up his mind. "I'll show you a storeroom. Step this way. We'll be ready to go in ten minutes. I'll bring a nurse along as well."
They quickly unloaded the sacks of raw opium into the room, and he locked the door. Exactly eight minutes later the surgeon crashed through the doors of the OR, helping the nurse push the gurney carrying the unconscious form of Marina Tanai. The man had discovered the raw power of massive financial incentive. A bigger financial incentive than he would ever have dreamt possible, riches that may save Marina's life.
They secured her in the rear of the cabin, and Greg roared out of the hospital onto the main highway for Jalalabad, the Grand Trunk Road; the Highway of Death. Yet as they left the environs of Ghazni, the only deaths they saw were those of their enemies. The bodies of the machine gun crew half hidden behind the stonewall, and Massoud's corpse at the side of the road, with animals already starting to eat their fill.
He felt the twinge of guilt at leaving the man's body in plain view, but it was short lived. He was an animal, the lowest of the beasts.
If other wild beasts can satisfy their hunger feeding on his corpse, so be it. It’s probably the only good thing he's done since he was born.
The Unimog roared along the highway, the big wheels and incredible suspension gripping the surface like Velcro. Greg pushed it hard, and as he gained in confidence, picked up the speed until the pedal was almost flat on the floor. Several times, they bounced and lurched as if they would overturn. Each time, skill or ingenuity brought them upright as they sped on toward their destination.
They were two hours into the journey when the doctor shouted, "Stop!"
Stoner was in the passenger seat; he told Greg to keep driving and rushed into the back. "What's up?"
"It's the bleeding. The way this thing pitches and rolls, I think it may have pulled some of the internal stitches apart. I'll have to do emergency surgery to stop the blood loss."
"What about plasma? Can't you feed in a line to keep going?"
He looked up. "Do you think we haven't thought of that? Look."
He pointed at the drip bags hanging from the chromium stands built into the wall above the gurney. The nurse was silently changing an empty bag of plasma, while other bags dripped saline and antibiotic drugs into the patient."
"Sorry. How long would it take?"
He shrugged. "About an hour, maybe two. Then she'll need a little time to recover from the worst of the effects. We can't move her straight away. She'd die in minutes."
He shouted at Greg, "How long to Jalalabad?"
"At this speed, three hours, tops."
"Copy that." He looked back at the doctor. "How much plasma do you have?"
He shook his head. "I'm sorry, the nurse is installing the last bag of blood. Then we're out."
He knew if they stopped for the emergency surgery, she'd never survive. Particularly without fresh plasma to replace what she'd lost. If they didn't do the surgery, she'd continue to bleed and die anyway.
Choose, Stoner, but what? She has to live! Christ, there must be more blood…
He stared at the doctor. "What about a direct transfusion? You can take my blood."
He looked dubious. "It may be possible, what group are you?"
"Blood group O."
"Rh negative?"
"Yeah, so they tell me."
He nodded. "In that case, we can transfuse your blood. It may suffice until we reach the hospital. But I warn you, Mr. Stoner, she will need a great deal if we do not stop to repair the damage. How much are you prepared to give?"
He stared at the Afghan medic. "As much as it takes. Keep her alive, Doc. Forget anything else, forget the consequences, and just keep her alive. Take what you need."
He inclined his head. "Very well, you'd better lay on the adjacent gurney, and we'll set up the line."
They were quick. Several minutes later, he had a big needle inserted into a vein in his arm, connected by a thin plastic tube to a similar needle in Marina's vein, and the nurse supervised the blood flow. She used a non-return valve, so that blood could only flow into the girl, and not vice versa. While the nurse kept the transfusion moving, the doctor continued to work on the wound, doing his best to staunch the flow without using surgery.
Several times during that nightmare journey, she cried out in pain. Once, he heard her shout, "Stoner."
"I'm here, Marina. I won't leave you." He wondered why his voice sounded faint. But then she slipped back into unconsciousness. The doctor tapped him on the shoulder.
"Mr. Stoner, you're getting weak. We've taken almost two liters of your blood, and you can't give much more. I'll have to stop this."
"No. Keep it going."
With an effort, he called out to Greg, "How much longer?"
"A couple of hours, maybe less if we're lucky."
He didn't reply. Only one thing mattered, he was going to do whatever it took to save her.
This isn't going to be another Madeleine, no way. I’m not going to arrive at an ER room with only the corpse of the girl I love. I’ve seen too much death, killed too many people. In the case of Maddie, I stood by helpless and watched her die bleeding in my arms. I'd have given anything for her to live, but it wasn't to be. Not this time!
He started to lose it then, and everything started to go black, but he shook his head to restore consciousness. The doctor noticed, and he murmured to the nurse. Stoner slowly opened his eyes and saw she'd stopped the flow of blood.
"Keep it going. Whatever it takes, keep it going."
"You can't take any more. Another liter and you'll be close to death."
"Take it all, do whatever it takes. If she dies, Doc, you die." He tried to form a grin, but it came out as a ghastly, bloody rictus, "If I die, you won't have to worry about me coming after you. Take the lot."
It was his final recollection before he blacked out. There was nothing more, only blackness, and then strange voices as if from a distance.
So there is an afterlife after all. How wrong could I be?
He was in a deep black pit, yet someone was speaking to him, and he forced himself to fight his way to the surface.
"Sto
ner."
I know that voice. It could only mean she died as well.
"Marina. I thought you were gonna make it. I'm so sorry."
A pause. "If you mean what I think you mean, you've got it wrong. I'm alive. We're alive. Try to open your eyes."
He felt someone bathing his eyes with a soft, damp cloth, and he managed to open them. She was sitting on the bed next to him, wearing a silk dressing gown. Incredibly slim and dark eyed, although she had shadows underneath. The scars on her face had started to heal. All he wanted was to raise his hand to touch that smooth, creamy skin.
"You are alive." His throat hurt, and the words came out as a croak.
She gave him a gentle smile. "Thanks to you, you crazy fool. They transfused so much of your blood into me you were almost dead when they brought you in here. They said a few more minutes and it would have been too late, for me, too. Thank you again, Stoner."
"You're welcome."
Her face adopted a look of puzzlement. "Why did you do it? Almost kill yourself for me."
"Because."
"Because?"
"Yeah, because."
"How can I ever repay you?"
"Live."
"Live? That's all?"
"We'll work on the rest later. How about Archer?"
"He's with Ahmed, and he made a full recovery. When they released the dog from the hospital, he drove back to Mehtar Lam. Greg didn't have the heart to take him back, and in any case, Archer made up his mind he wasn't going to leave the boy. You know what U.S. Marines are like. They make a decision and there's no way to shake them."
"Yeah, I know, stubborn bunch of hardasses. That dog sure is one of them."
