The Surgeon's Rescue Mission

by Dianne Drake

  One of the older men yelled, “I can.”

  “Then tell everybody I need their help. As they can walk, I want them to help those who can’t walk to get to safety outside.” One little old woman in a curtained-off area was fighting frantically to pull her meager possessions into the bed sheet, and it broke Solaina’s heart to have to tell her, and all these people, that the belongings couldn’t go, not as long as there were lives to save. “We need everybody who is able to help. And those who are not able can gather up all the belongings left behind and carry them outside. If they’re ready to go right now! Because we have to get out.”

  She could feel the heat starting to rise, feel the sweat from it starting to saturate her clothing, smell the cloying odor of smoke sticking to her skin. The medical gases in the surgery—was there enough time to secure the hospital before they exploded? Before the entire building caught fire?

  “Tell them to hurry,” she instructed the man, who translated her words. “And if they see any flames or smoke, to get out immediately.” In a flash, six people dropped their lifelong possessions to the floor and ran to her. Even the little old lady who was wresting her treasures into the sheet willingly left it all behind to follow Solaina out into the hall.

  No one stayed behind to retrieve anything. Brave, gallant people, she thought. People who didn’t deserve the fate that had brought them here, and who didn’t deserve this fate now. No wonder David loved this life. The people here made the sacrifices worth everything.

  The people here, so many now starting over. Dear God, she knew what she had to do if she got out of here alive. Suddenly, it was all very clear.

  In the hall, just down the corridor, Solaina and her group were greeted by a small army of people on crutches, and even a few people who were crawling, all on their way out. Just beyond them the smoke was getting thicker near the entrance to the non-ambulatory wing—the wing where nobody walked, crawled or even hobbled on crutches. These people in front of her would make it out. They would be slow, but they would find safety, so she motioned for her little group of rescuers to pass them by, and they continued down the hall until they came to the ward with the biggest need. The totally helpless. The bed-bound. There were still a half dozen of them to be rescued, she discovered as she ran through the door.

  The staff was making a gallant effort at rescue, carrying one patient at a time or pushing them on any trolleys available. But it was slow going, and as she looked at the faces of those still there, she noticed a certain calmness, and thought of her smiling, red-lipped Buddha who had that same calmness. These people were simply awaiting their destiny—to be rescued, or die.

  It was so smoky in there that Solaina wished she had thought to find masks. The oxygen was being sucked out by the smoke and the heat was far worse in that ward than in any other area she’d seen so far. But they were close to the surgery and time was running out! “Get them out any way you can,” Solaina shouted. Not that she needed to. Her band of rescuers was already doing just that—throwing themself into the full effort, shoulder to shoulder, with the majority of the medical staff.

  It took mere seconds to load the remainder of the non-walking patients into wheelchairs and onto stretchers, and even Solaina was amazed by how quickly the ward was evacuated. Seemingly in the blink of an eye it was empty. She was the only one left, and it was eerie, standing there alone for that fraction of a second, because she would be the last person here. The last person ever. In another few minutes this ward would be gone. Then, in another few minutes after that, David’s whole hospital.

  “Where else, Matteo?” she shouted, as he ran by the door, pushing a cart with two grown men clinging together on top of it. “Where else would I find people in this hospital?”

  “Just the wards,” he shouted back. “And they’re empty. There’s no one in Surgery or Emergency. And the staff is all out and accounted for. Davey’s made sure of that. Now, you get yourself out of here, Solaina. We’ve done all we can do.”

  Not very far away she heard the first explosion, and felt the rumble of it down the hall and into the ward. The impact slammed her into the wall. “Dear God,” she whispered, the full force of what was happening finally hitting her. Somebody had done this to David—to his hospital. The same person who had almost killed him. Her father?

  She wanted to crumple to the floor, to her knees, and cry for David, but a second explosion followed almost immediately after the first, and Solaina took one final look around the ward to check for anyone who might have been left behind. Fear caused strange reactions in fires. It made people hide in the worst possible places—under beds, in closets, behind cabinets. She’d learned that in the numerous emergency training sessions she’d taken over the years, and now, as she swept back through the ward, looking under beds and behind curtains and closets, she was relieved to find the room totally vacated.

  “Get out!” someone screamed at her from the hall. “The fire’s spread out of the surgery.”

  When she heard that, she glanced first at the ceiling, then at the wall. There was still a little time, she knew. Even though the smoke was beginning to roll in, she still had time to get back to another ward for one last check.

  On her way out of the door into the hall, Solaina grabbed a towel off the end of one of the patient beds, poured water on it from a basin and clamped it over her mouth and nose. Then she ran as hard and fast as she ever had in her life to the next ward and made a quick check. Empty, thank God.

  She was still well ahead of the fire, she thought as she ran into the hall. At the far end, the non-ambulatory ward from which she’d just come moments earlier, she could see a blaze engulfing the wooden door and spreading its way over the wooden walls in the hall. Meaning she had only seconds to get out of there now that the fire was spreading. The building was constructed of wood—probably bamboo. The fire was greedy now, and it would devour the entire structure withing minutes.

  But the last ward! Ambulatory. She’d been there already, seen everyone leave. No time to go back for one last check. It was time to get herself out of the hospital and let the fire finish its vile job.

  Halfway to the door, Solaina heard someone shouting. “Davey says Pholla is missing.” She knew Matteo’s voice, but couldn’t see him through the smoke. Her eyes were streaming now, and breathing through the wet towels was becoming more and more difficult. And the heat…Dear God, she was so hot her skin felt scorched. Maybe it was.

  “Solaina,” he shouted, “where are you?”

  “Which ward?” she screamed, praying it was ambulatory, because it was the only one ahead of her and now there was no way back. The fire was fully in control in the other wards and fighting its way to get through to this one.

  “Over here. Bring him over here!” David shouted above the moans and wails of the patients. “And get blankets on those people over there.” He pointed to a group of three older women stretched out on the ground. They were only a couple of days post-surgery—one with an above the knee amputation, one with serious shrapnel wounds in both legs and one who’d lost a couple of fingers. If he didn’t find a way to get them into shelter fast, they could die of shock or other complications. “Then get them into one of the staff’s living quarters and make sure someone is with them at all times.” Their various conditions alone didn’t make them critical, but their conditions combined with their age did.

  He made his way over to a man lying on top of a cart. The only light came from the fire, but David didn’t need much light to see the man’s difficulties. He was gasping for breath, probably from panic—and who couldn’t blame him? If there was time, David would have been feeling the same way. He spoke a few words to reassure the man, even though he spoke no English, then took hold of his wrist to assess his pulse. “It’s good,” he said, tucking the man’s arm back under the blanket. “OK.” He gave him the international thumbs-up sign, and the man returned it.

  The man pointed to David’s bandages, and it was the first time David actually notic
ed that he hadn’t bothered pulling on a shirt. “OK?” the man asked, genuinely concerned.

  David nodded, even though he was not OK. Not while Solaina was still inside and he couldn’t do a thing to help her.

  He glanced at the hospital and sucked in a sharp breath. Solaina and the child. They would be OK, too. They had to be. “OK,” he whispered, moving on to the next patient, a young woman with a leg reconstruction. He’d done the surgery himself, just over a week ago, and she was coming along splendidly now. She was on the ground, and as David bent to down examine her the pinch of his ribs sucked the breath right out of him. It took several seconds before he was able to draw in another breath, and it was ragged. He’d just done himself more damage. Ripped more cartilage.

  Biting his lower lip against the pain, he steadied himself in a squatting position and pulled back the woman’s blanket to take a look at her bandages. “Sok,” he said, “how are you doing?”

  “Fine, Doctor,” she said in fluent English. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”

  He glanced back at the hospital again, struggled for another breath, then let it out slowly. “We’ll have somebody get you into one of the other buildings in a little while,” he said, even though, unlike Sok, nothing at all was fine with him. And it had nothing to do with the pain tearing his body to pieces and everything to do with the pain tearing his heart apart.

  “Get out of there, Solaina,” he prayed aloud.

  “She should be in ambulatory,” Matteo yelled.

  “I’m right there so I’ll go get her—you get out of here and help David!” Solaina sputtered, not sure if her voice was strong enough to carry now that her lungs were beginning to fill with smoke. Thirty seconds, she told herself. That’s all I have. More of that training coming into play. A requirement of her job—to anticipate and direct all emergencies. Fire included. For administrators only. “Pholla,” she cried, bursting through the doors of the ambulatory ward. “Pholla, where are you?”

  The ward was smoky, but not as bad as the hallway. Still, her eyes were streaming even more now and she was forced to squint. “Pholla?” she called, then started to cough. Twenty-five seconds…twenty-four…

  “Pholla, please, come out, sweetie.” Twenty-three…twenty-two…

  “Come on, Pholla. I want to take you outside.” Twenty-one…twenty… “Where you can breathe.”

  Solaina looked under the beds as best she could, first up one side of the ward then down the other, then she shoved aside a supply cabinet sitting against the wall near the middle of the room. No sign of Pholla anywhere. Twelve…eleven…Her lungs were finally giving out, trying to seize up on her. Time was running out now—for the little girl, for her. “Pholla,” she cried, determined not to give up, then she doubled over in a gut-wrenching cough. “Sweetie…” she forced out.

  Nothing. And now the smoke was so thick she could barely see her hand in front of her face.

  She looked up at a window just above her head—so much fresh air just on the other side. But if she broke it, the draft might suck the fire right in…No other choice. She had to get out of there. Now! But if she’s still in here somewhere… Three…two…one. Time was up. To survive, Solaina had to abandon her search. Run for her own life. Get out of there, Solaina!

  Was that David calling her?

  “Pholla,” she called one last time.

  Get out of there, Solaina!

  The sick feeling of abandoning the child was more unbearable than the heat and the smoke and the lack of oxygen, but before Solaina gave herself over to total defeat she ran to the middle of the room, shut her eyes and visualized what she had seen the first time she’d come in the ward only minutes ago, when she’d been evacuating the other patients. The beds, the cabinet…Had that been all? Think! The beds, the cabinet…the laundry basket! In the corner to the right of the door.

  “Pholla!” she screamed, running straight there. It was too smoky to have a good look inside, so she thrust her hands into the laundry—and there she was. Pholla! Nestled among the dirty sheets and towels. Her foot was bandaged from the surgery, and she was clinging to a rag doll.

  Solaina sucked in a breath and held it as her fingers sought the pulse in Pholla’s neck.

  Still alive! Mercifully, thank her smiling Buddha, the little girl was still alive.

  Solaina scooped her up, cradled her to her chest and crashed through the door into the hall, stopping only for a fraction of a second to get her bearings in the gray haze now swallowing every inch of available air. Once she’d fixed her position, and remembered which way the door was, she ran straight outside, then collapsed on the ground, several steps away, still clutching Pholla to her chest.

  And breathed!

  By the time Matteo and another of the hospital workers pulled them away, the fire was raging throughout the hospital. Nothing and no one in there now could have been saved.

  “Solaina,” David said, holding the oxygen mask over her face. God, how he wanted to hold her in his arms. He should have been the one in there, leading the patients to safety, organizing their escape, saving Pholla. Not Solaina!

  “I’m fine,” she gasped, pushing away her oxygen mask. “How’s Pholla?”

  “No worse for wear. Poor little thing’s been through a hell of a lot today, but she’s fine. Breathing on her own. Scared to death.”

  “Are they going to save anything?”

  David looked at the building. The fire brigade from Kantha had arrived, but they carried buckets, not hoses. And they were running back and forth from an outside pump, transporting one bucket of water at a time. It was a futile effort, he knew. The flames licked at the wooden structure as greedily as a hungry child licked an ice-cream cone.

  “No,” he said. “Nothing.”

  “David, I’m so sorry…” she choked.

  “No one died, Solaina,” he said. “And except for some smoke inhalation, everyone’s fine. That’s all that matters.” Everything—every hope, every dream—had been engulfed in that orange glow, but in the moments when he’d thought Solaina and Pholla might not make it out of there, he’d realized how much Solaina had become such a big part of those hopes and dreams. And the possibility of losing her…He swiped at the tears still streaming down his face. “That’s all that matters,” he whispered.

  For the next several minutes no one said a word. Not Solaina. Not David. Clinging together so tight they almost drew the same breath, they simply watched as the volunteers threw themselves into dousing the fire, almost mesmerized by the steady rhythm of the effort. Several people filled the buckets while others carried them to the men who had now grabbed shovels and were throwing dirt, as well as water, on the inferno. It was a slow process, though, and one meant only—now—to stop the fire spreading to the other buildings. There was no longer any hope for the hospital. Everyone knew that, and the despondency of fighting a lost cause was already showing in the weary slump of shoulders and the sad expressions.

  The fire was simply overtaking the hospital faster than they could put it out, and patches of brush between the hospital and the nearest outbuilding had also gone up in flames.

  “They don’t see it,” Solaina said, pointing to the fire that had jumped the break. “What’s in there?”

  “Medical supplies—things needed for rehabilitation. The things we send home with our patients, like wheelchairs and crutches. And we store some of their personal belongings in there, too.”

  “I can save it,” Solaina cried, jumping up.

  “No!” he yelled. David went to grab her hand, but she pulled away from him. “Solaina, stop!”

  Too late. She was off toward the jump fire before he could get himself off the ground. “Damn it,” he muttered, following her and quickly finding out that he simply could not run. “Solaina,” he screamed. “It doesn’t matter! Those things don’t matter!”

  Solaina didn’t listen to him, though. Instead, she grabbed a shovel brought in by one of the Kantha volunteers and began to beat at the tiny
trail of brush fires, trying to hammer them into the earth. He could see her in the distance, alternately shoveling the dirt then pounding then shoveling.

  By the time he reached her, several volunteers had joined her and the fire was stopped short of the storage building. “Solaina,” David snapped, grabbing her arm and holding on for dear life because he was afraid she would run off to fight yet another battle. “What the hell were you thinking, running after the fire like that?”

  “I was thinking of their personal posessions, and how much they’ve already lost. And I was thinking of the wheelchairs and crutches they would need, even though the hospital is gone, and how long it might take to replace them, and what their lives might be like without them.” She took in a deep breath, then coughed. “And I was thinking that I wasn’t going to let my father destroy everything.”

  “Your father?”

  “My father. He did this, David. You think that, don’t you?” She swatted angrily at a large piece of ash floating down from the sky.

  He didn’t know what to say. It could have been an accident. Or of Bertrand Léandre’s doing. That was Matteo’s theory anyway, though David wasn’t so sure.

  Most likely the cause wouldn’t be determined, because out here forensics wasn’t sophisticated. Unless someone had actually left behind a gas can, or claimed responsibility, it would go down as an accident. “Solaina, I don’t know. And even if he did do this, it’s not your fault. And it doesn’t matter what’s happened now. Everybody’s safe, and we can rebuild.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she cried, then coughed again. This time David pulled her to his chest.

  “I know you are, pretty lady. But you had nothing to do with this, no matter how it started. Trust me, Solaina. This is not your fault.” And if he had to say those exact words to her every day for the rest of his life, he would. Tonight, when he’d thought he might lose her, he’d realized that if she came out of the burning building, he would never, ever let her go. He couldn’t. Whatever it took…