A MEMBER OF THE TEAM
Lt. Craig Garrison paused on his way out the mansion's front door and swore softly to himself. He'd heard the other Gorillas leave for supper just a short while ago and had been about to do the same himself. Suddenly, he realized he'd totally forgotten about Chief.
Their latest mission had gone off with only one hitch. Chief had hurt his leg badly when a gust of wind had deposited him and his parachute ontop of a pile of boulders just outside their drop zone. He'd had to sit out the entire mission. On their return home, x-rays had shown he'd suffered nothing more than severe bruises and a bad sprain, so, the doctor at the hospital had wrapped the ankle and sent him home. The sergeant-major had dropped him off at the mansion just after lunch. Craig had been too busy to greet him, but the Sergeant reported that he was on crutches, and having great difficulty walking because the fall had also injured his left shoulder and elbow. Craig doubted very much he'd be up to the long walk to the mess hall.
The least I can do is go up and check how he's doing, Craig thought, as he abruptly changed direction, and began to climb the stairs to the barracks.
His soft knock on the door went unanswered. He repeated it and at last Chief's voice called, "Door's open."
He found him lying on his cot, fully dressed, the injured leg propped on a pillow. He looked tired and pale and dispirited.
"Just wanted to check and see how you're doing, Chief," he said.
"I'm okay, Warden,"Chief answered softly. His reply lacked the defensive edge Garrison had come to expect from the young con.
"What are you going to do about supper? Are the others going to bring you a tray?"
Chief shrugged. "Dunno."
"What do you mean, you don't know?"
"I was asleep when they left."
Garrison scowled angrily. "You mean, no one asked you if you wanted anything?"
"Nope. Don't need no looking after."
Garrison stifled the urge to swear, angered both by the others' thoughtlessness and by Chief's stubborn refusal to confess he needed help. "Oh, come on, Chief," he said, "You can't go without food! Look, why don't you come with me? I'll bring my jeep around to the front door."
Chief considered it for a moment. "Appreciate the offer, Lieutenant, but I'd rather stay right here. I'll be okay."
Garrison was quick to guess the reason for Chief's response. It was probably just too difficult for him to get up and down the stairs right now. "Well, I'll bring you back a tray, then," he said, in a tone that left no room for argument. "What would you like?"
Chief shrugged and gave a wry half-smile. "I don't remember them having much of a selection on the menu. Anything's fine, long as it's not their chicken."
Garrison chuckled. "Yeah, I had that last week. They must've got a bunch of old stewing hens that should have gone to the soup factory. It was like trying to eat India rubber! If that's what's on the menu, I'll just bring you some sandwiches, okay?"
Chief nodded. "Sounds good, Lieutenant. Thanks for thinkin' of me..."
"You're welcome, Chief."
He hopped into his jeep, and drove to the mess hall. Normally he walked, but he'd decided it wasn't right for Chief to eat alone, and carrying two trays back to the mansion on foot would have been too awkward.
He poked his head into the kitchen, and spoke with the cook to arranged it, then waited by the servery window for the trays to be delivered. He did not look around the mess hall for the rest of his men, though he definitely intended to have a word with them when they returned to the barracks.
He returned with the trays, and carried them up the stairs. The cook had put lids on just about everything, so he managed to get them safely to the table with no major spills.
Chief was still lying on his bunk much as he'd been when Craig left, facing the wall, the blanket pulled up to his waist.
"Can you make it to the table, Chief?" he asked, feeling a stab of concern at Chief's lethargy.
"I'll give it a try," he mumbled. Slowly, he sat up, hesitating for a long moment before swinging his legs over the edge of the cot. He drew in a sharp hiss of breath, and swore softly as the change of position caused the injured ankle to throb.
"Taken anything for the pain lately?"Garrison asked.
"Not since I got back," Chief hissed, between gritted teeth. "Made me sleep most of the afternoon."
Craig handed him the crutches. He made it to his feet on the second try, and stood teetering uncertainly on one foot. Craig steadied him until he was able to get the crutches into position.
"Okay?"
Chief nodded, and took a hesitant step. He'd gotten the pain under control now, but the set of his jaw revealed the effort it had cost him.
He made it to the table by the window, and sank into the chair Garrison pulled out for him with an audible sigh of relief. Garrison pulled another chair into position for him so he could put the injured foot up.
"Thanks, Lieutenant," he said. He looked with surprise at the second tray. "Who's that for?"
"Me. I decided to keep you company," he said, grinning. "That way I can be here to pin a few ears back for thoughtlessness when the others return."
Chief made no comment at that, merely turned his attention to his tray.
Garrison did the same, beginning to remove the lids from his soup and coffee. He noticed Chief seemed to be struggling with his, due to the pain of his elbow and shoulder.
"What did the doctor say?" he asked, as he picked up his coffee and took a sip.
"Ahhh, the usual stuff. Keep off it, keep it elevated, make sure it's supported if I have to walk on it...He wants me to come back in two weeks to let him have a look at it. He thinks it's gonna be a least four to six weeks before I'll be able to risk jumping again. He sighed. "That's a long time to be laid up..."
Garrison nodded in agreement. "Well, guess it could have been worse. Could've broken your leg..."
"Or my neck!" Chief concluded wryly. As a matter of fact, both Garrison and Actor initially thought he had broken the ankle because the bruising and pain had been so bad. The results of the x-rays had come as a pleasant surprise.
Chief dug into the pork chops, peas and mashed potatoes that had comprised the more edible of the mess hall's two offerings. "Hey, this stuff's not bad," he declared after a few bites. "At least I can chew the meat!"
"Better than their chicken, that's for sure," Garrison agreed.
Chief reached for his coffee, and took a quick gulp. Garrison noticed his hands trembling slightly, and wondered why. "You feeling okay?" he asked.
"Yeah, fine, Warden. Why'd you ask?"
"Your hands are trembling."
Chief gave a slight shrug. "Chilly in here tonight," he said, cradling the coffee cup in his hands as if to warm them.
The temperature in the room seemed quite comfortable to Garrison, but he decided to let it drop, knowing how Chief hated to show any sign of weakness. Never much of a talker by anyone's standards, he'd become even more withdrawn since his injury, and Craig guessed his withdrawal was due to the injury making him feel vulnerable.
Garrison's efforts to draw him out this evening met with scant success, and he was almost relieved when he heard the other Gorillas returning from supper.
They were bantering back and forth noisily as they came up the stairs, but they fell abruptly silent when the saw him sitting at the table.
Actor was the first to speak. "Good evening, Lieutenant,"said the tall, aristocratic Italian. "Chief, how are you feeling?"
"Not too bad, Actor."
"You were sound asleep when we left, so we decided it best not to disturb you. I wasn't sure you would want any supper, but I see the Lieutenant was kind enough to bring you some."
"So nice of YOU to remember him," Garrison cut in, his voice chilly. "I suppose he would have gone hungry if I hadn't thought of it! He's certainly in no shape to walk as far as the mess hall, and the last time I looked in the fridge here, all it contained was a stale loaf of bread and some sour milk!"
The three men exchanged guilty glances. "Hey, Chiefy, we're sorry, mate!" said Goniff. "We never thought..."
Garrison cut off the slender, blonde thief. "That's exactly right, Goniff, and it's about time you DID start to think of each other's welfare, at home here as well as when we're on a mission! All that stuff I taught you about teamwork wasn't just for in the field, you know! How can you expect someone to protect your back out in the field, if you can't even be bothered to look out for him when you're at home?"
Chief's eyes were fastened on his plate. It was obvious that Craig's rebuke of the other men was embarrassing him. "Don't need anyone lookin' after me, Warden..."
"Really, Chief? What would you have done about supper if I hadn't come along?"
"I would've been okay, Warden. I wasn't all that hungry..."
"How were we supposed to know, Warden?" cut in Casino. "We're lucky if we get two complete sentences outta the Injun in one day! It's not like we're mind readers or something!"
"You don't need to be a mind reader to know Chief's in pain and having trouble walking, Casino! As I recall, you were the one that had to all but carry him away from our drop zone after he crash landed on that farmer's stone pile!"
"Yeah, and small thanks I get for savin' the Redskin's lousy neck..."
Chief had ignored Casino's first slight, but now his hands balled into fists, and he turned to confront the dark-haired, hot-tempered safecracker. "Who was it heard that patrol comin'? You would've walked right into it if I hadn't stopped you!"
"Casino!" Garrison snapped angrily. "That's enough! From now on, I want to see you treating each other with more consideration and respect, both here and in the field! Each of you here is a valuable member of this team. You each have important skills to contribute. It's time you started to realize that!" He glared at each of them in turn, until he received a grudging acknowledgment of what he'd just said.
"Good. Now, I want to see all of you out for small arms practice at 0900 tomorrow. Chief, you too, if you feel up to it. And I'll be asking to make sure you got some breakfast!" He rose to his feet, and prepared to leave. Chief also started to get up.
"Where are you off to?" Garrison asked.
"Gotta go to the loo," Chief mumbled, obviously resentful of the question.
"Actor...you go with him. I want someone to make sure he gets down those stairs okay."
Actor nodded his handsome Roman head, and handed Chief his crutches. "Wise idea, Lieutenant. His elbow and shoulder are still quite painful."
Chief made no protest, merely gritted his teeth, and began to move towards the stairs with painful slowness.
Craig went on ahead, and was nearly at the bottom of the stairs when it happened. He heard Actor shout, "CHIEF!" then the sound of the crutches rattling down the stairs, followed by some muffled thumps that might have been a body falling.
Garrison turned around and sprinted up the stairs. Actor was standing just above the first landing, supporting Chief's upper body, as he sat slumped bonelessly back against the stairs.
"Help me get him safely down to the landing," Actor called. "I think he's fainted."
Craig grabbed his knees, while Actor took his upper body, and they lowered him down until he was sitting on the landing, leaning drunkenly against the wall.
Actor loosened his shirt collar, and checked his pulse, which was rapid and weak. He then pulled up his left shirt sleeve, and hissed in concern at the sight of Chief's elbow. The parts of it that had not been scraped and bruised during his ill-fated parachute landing were bright red, and the whole elbow was swollen and hot to the touch.
"That's a nasty-looking infection," he said. "I wouldn't be surprised if he's running a fever."
"That wouldn't surprise me either. He was complaining of feeling cold while he was eating supper, and I noticed his hands trembling," Garrison said.
Casino and Goniff had heard the commotion, and came running to the top of the stairs. When Goniff saw what had happened, he hurried back into the barracks and fetched a blanket without being asked. Actor wrapped it around Chief's shoulders, and continued to support him with his head bending forward, resting on his knees. After a few minutes, he started to come around.
"Can you tell us what happened, Chief?" Garrison asked, when at last his dark, almost black eyes flickered open..
He was shivering, and barely able to string a coherent sentence together, but at last, he managed to mumble an explanation. "Fumbled the crutch with m' left hand, an' almost dropped it. When Actor grabbed m' sore elbow to steady me, the pain was so bad, I couldn't stand it. Tried to pull away from him, 'n lost m' balance enough that I put weight on m' bad foot. Everything kinda went gray for a moment after that. Glad you were there to grab me, Actor."
"Thank you," Actor said. "glad I was able to be of help."
"Let's leave him sitting here for a few minutes longer," Garrison suggested. "I'm going to see if I can get hold of a doctor."
"Good, idea, Lieutenant," Actor agreed. "I'll stay with him."
He returned ten minutes later. Chief was now looking much more alert, although he was now shivering so hard that Garrison could hear his teeth chattering. "Doctor says he'll be here in about half an hour," he told them. "He says in the meantime, to keep him resting and warm. Also, he wants to know if he's running a fever."
"Let's get him back upstairs to his bed," Actor suggested. "Casino, please get me the thermometer out of first aid kit in the bathroom. Warden, since you and I are the tallest, we're probably the best ones to help him upstairs."
"I hate to remind you, but I still gotta pee..." Chief mumbled, obviously embarrassed.
Actor gave a nasty smile. "I believe there's an old chamber pot somewhere in the bathroom downstairs. If not, you can use a bucket. One thing I know for sure...I have no intention of lugging you all the way downstairs and all the way back up."
"Awww, geez!" Chief protested, hiding his face with his good hand. "A goddamn chamber pot..."
"Can you hold out 'til we get you back upstairs?" Garrison asked, trying not to grin at Chief's reaction.
"Yeah, yeah, I'll be okay..."
"All right, let's get you up on your feet then."
Chief shrugged off Garrison's offered hand. "I'm okay," he insisted. "I can manage on my own."
Garrison exchanged glances with Actor, who raised his eyebrows and gave a slight shrug. "If you want to try to split your skull open again on the stairs, by all means, be my guest!" the con man said sarcastically.
Chief glared at him, and stubbornly made an effort to rise, pushing off from the floor with his right hand and foot while using the wall for support. Blessed with the balance and reflexes of a cat, and fueled with pure spite, he somehow made it to a standing position.
Garrison shook his head. "You make a mule look like a piker when it comes to stubbornness, Chief. Now what?"
"Hand me my crutches, please."
Garrison crossed his arms, smiling wryly. Chief wasn't the only one know for his stubbornness. "Oh, no. We're not giving you a second chance to fall down those stairs, Chief. You'll accept our help whether you want it or not! Now, come on, put your good arm around my shoulder. Actor, be ready to grab hold of his belt on that side if he stumbles."
Chief took a hesitant step away from the wall. For a moment, he swayed dizzily, stifling a cry of pain, and Garrison grabbed his arm to steady him. Then, he regained his balance and with their help, began to slowly climb the stairs.
They helped him into bed, and made him as comfortable as they could. When Actor stuck the thermometer in his mouth, he was shivering so hard that his teeth rattled convulsively against the glass tube. "Easy," Actor cautioned, "mercury poisoning is definitely not going to help your situation."
Chief grinned weakly at that, and managed to last the requisite three minutes without biting the thermometer in half.
"So, I was right," Actor announced, squinting at the tiny scale of numbers, "you do have a fever- a hundred point eight."
Chief merely grunted, and burrowed as far under the blankets as he could. Rarely had he felt so miserable and so helpless.
The doctor arrived a short while later. He was a stocky, middle-aged Scot with sandy hair, piercing blue-gray eyes and a no-nonsense attitude. He shook Garrison's hand firmly. "Dr. Colin Campbell's the name, Lieutenant," he said, then proceeded to questioned Garrison closely about the circumstances of Chief's injury.
"So," he concluded after a careful examination of Chief's elbow and foot, "your drop zone was a farmer's field. I'm willing t' wager there'd been manure spread on it sometime during the past fortnight. Am I right?"
Garrison thought for a moment. "Come to think of it, I remember it did smell a little ripe still, though it had just been freshly ploughed."
"Aye, I thought as much. That explains the lad's infection. Look, the ankle's infected too. See these abrasions?" He pointed to some deep scrapes on the outside of Chief's ankle.
"Yes, you're right," Garrison agreed. "So what can you do for him?"
"I'll give him some sulfa, and both the foot and the elbow should be soaked in warm salt water or Epsom salts for twenty minutes, twice a day, t' help draw the infection out. If he's no better come morning he'll have to go to hospital. Is this his own bed?"
Garrison nodded in confirmation.
"Good. He shouldna' be alone tonight. Check his temperature every few hours and if it gets above 104, bring him in straight away. When did he last have something for pain?"
"This afternoon, just after I got back," Chief gritted from between clenched teeth.
"I'll give him a shot noo then, before we soak his elbow an' ankle. That's bound t' stir things up a bit."
Dr. Campbell had been right about the pain. Chief had a high tolerance to pain, they all knew that, and had seen it demonstrated time and again, but the agony of trying to immerse his injured foot into a bucket of warm water was more than he was able to bear, even with the help of a shot of morphine. He would get the foot part way in, then yank it out, cursing softly as he tried to force himself to tolerate the pain. He was clenching the edge of the cot with both hands, knuckles white with pressure.
At last, Colin put a hand on his shoulder. "Give it a rest, man," he said gently. "I can make warm compresses from some towels. That should work just as well."
Chief nodded, not trusting his voice to speak. Heaving a sigh of relief, he sank back on the bed.
The warm compresses were much easier to endure. Dr. Campbell renewed them every few minutes, as the towels cooled. By the time 20 minutes had passed, Chief had relaxed enough to slip into an uneasy doze. At last, Dr. Campbell removed the towels, patted the ankle and arm dry, and pulled up the blankets. Chief opened drugged, sleepy eyes at his touch.
"Open up," Campbell said, and again slipped a thermometer into his mouth. When he removed it three minutes later, he scowled at the reading. "What did you say it t'was earlier, Actor?"
"One hundred point eight."
"Well, it's up to a hundred an' two point eight, now."
Actor gave a silent whistle. "That fast! Is that...a bad sign?"
Dr. Campbell rubbed a hand across his ragged mustache. "Aye, well, we'll just have t' hope the sulfa is going t' work. I'd like someone to recheck his temp everra' two hours."
"We'll set a watch, then," Garrison volunteered, "just like when we're on a mission."
"Excellent idea," Campbell agreed. "All right then, I'll pop in early t'morrow morning before I go on duty. But, remember, if the fever tops 104, take him off to hospital straight away. I'll leave you something for the pain, too. Can any of you do an injection?"
"They've all had the standard first aid course," Garrison replied, "but Actor and I are the only ones who've ever actually given anyone a needle."
"Good. So, I'll leave it up to the two of you, then. With the shot I just gave him, he shouldn't be needin' anything fer at least four hours. I'll preload a syringe for you, but don't give it unless he seems t' be in distress. Okay?"
Garrison nodded. "We understand, Doctor."
"Good. See ya in t'mornin' then! Lieutenant..." Dr. Campbell straightened, came to attention, and snapped off a crisp salute.
Caught totally by surprise, Garrison scrambled to his feet, and returned it. Dr. Campbell grinned, obviously enjoying his shock.
"Relax, laddie," he chided, "I'll no be reportin' you fer not salutin' me when I'm out of uniform."
Then, he turned and was gone, before Garrison could recover enough to ask him just what branch of the military he was with, and what rank he held.
"What the hell was THAT all about?" Casino wondered aloud, as the door at the bottom of the stairs closed. "And who is he?"
"I haven't a clue, Casino, but I've got the feeling he's quite a character."
"Doesn't seem to be regular army, that's for certain," Actor said.
"All right," Garrison cut the speculation short, "let's draw straws for watches, and hit the sack. I have a nasty feeling about tomorrow."
"You mean, you think Richards has a mission for us?"
Garrison nodded. "He was in his office with Colonel Draper most of the afternoon. That usually means there's something coming our way."
Garrison was up early, having drawn the straw for the last watch of the night. When Casino came to wake him, he reported Chief had had a fairly good night. "He woke up once, thrashing an' moaning. Said he'd had a bad dream. Actor gave him the needle the doctor left, an' he settled right down."
"How's the fever?"
"It topped out at 103.4. It's come down a bit now, but it's still pretty high."
Chief slept peacefully, snoring softly, until Garrison finished his watch at 0630. The rest of the army regarded 0630 as the start of the day, but Garrison's team did not go by army rules, and generally no one stirred much before 0730. Especially this morning, with a possible mission in the wind, and a night's sleep disrupted by Chief's illness, Garrison did not begrudge them a bit of a lie-in. He slipped out quietly, put on his running shoes, and went for an early morning jog around the grounds.
He loved this time of the morning, with the air cool and fresh and clean, and the birds singing. The run always cleared his mind, and allowed him a fresh start on the day.
He returned to his room, showered, shaved, and put on a fresh uniform. Exactly at 0730, the telephone rang.
I knew it, he thought, as he picked it up and heard Major Richard's voice on the other end. "Lieutenant, I'd like to see you in my office, please," the Major said."I've got a job for you and your men."
"I'll be right there, sir," he responded.
Richards made short work of the briefing, and half an hour later, Garrison was back at the mansion, with the papers in their leather briefcase, ready to brief his team. He was not surprised to see Dr. Campbell's black sedan parked in front of the door.
The doctor was waiting for him outside his office. Craig tried to keep his jaw from dropping as he saw the doctor's uniform was that of a British Army major. He wore the shoulder flash of the commandos, and his chest bristled with campaign ribbons.
"Sir!" Garrison greeted him, snapping off a precise salute. "good morning to you!"
"Morning, Lieutenant. Got a mission, have you?" Dr. Campbell asked, nodding at the briefcase.
Garrison nodded. "We do indeed, sir."
Dr. Campbell sighed. "Well, that tears it then. I wasn't sure whether to send him off to hospital or not, but if no one's going to be here, that's the best place for him."
"How is he, sir?"
"The fever's down a bit, which is good, but the arm is still very red and swollen. It needs careful watching, or he could lose it. If ye don't mind, I'd like to borrow your phone, t' ring for an ambulance."
"Certainly, sir."
"Will this be your first mission without him?"
Garrison nodded, wondering where this was headed. "Yes, it's the first time one of the team's been injured badly enough to have to sit out a mission."
"You'll have to be extra careful, then, Lieutenant. You're a small team, and you'll be amazed at just how much it can change things. Sometimes, it's the little things like that which can make or break your chances of succeeding."
"I take it you're speaking from experience, sir?"
"Indeed, lad," Campbell responded with a laugh, "indeed I am."
"Thank you for the advice, Major. We're still pretty new at this, and the men are just starting to come together as a team."
Campbell nodded. "I've heard a bit about your team, Garrison, an' I know where your lads are from. Teamwork doesn't come easily t' those who've always tried to work outside the rules. The one who's injured...what's his background?"
Garrison started to speak, then caught himself. "Why do you ask, sir? I 'm sorry, but I have to protect my men's right to privacy."
"It might help in his treatment, Lieutenant, that's why. And don't worry, anything you say will be held in strictest confidence, as between doctor and patient."
Garrison considered for a moment, realized he was concerned about Chief being alone while they were gone, and decided to tell Dr. Campbell the little he knew. "He's done time for car theft, B&E and manslaughter. He's Indian, or half Indian, but no one knows what tribe, and he absolutely refuses to answer personal questions. He's also got a number of escape attempts to his record, some of them successful. That's one skill that definitely might come in handy in our line of work. He carries a switchblade and he's damn good with it. He can move like a ghost when he has to, and he's the best on the team at taking out an enemy without making a sound."
Dr. Campbell nodded. "A valuable skill in your line of work. How does he relate to the other men?"
"He's pretty much a respect him for his skill, but he doesn't talk much and doesn't mix well. I took them to task just yesterday for leaving him alone in the barracks while they went off to supper, and never offered to bring him back anything."
Again, Dr. Campbell nodded. "Thank you, Lieutenant, that's very valuable information. Don't worry, I'll look out fer him whilst yer gone. Sounds like ye need t' work a bit on team building..."
"If only he'd open up a bit that would help. But the walls just seem to be so thick. It's difficult to even carry on a conversation with him."
Garrison could have sworn he saw a sudden light gleam in Campbell's eyes. "I'll have t' tell ye, Lieutenant, since I gave up commando work, I've devoted my time t' two things: one, puttin' back together bodies damaged by this war, and two, puttin' back together damaged minds. I studied with Freud in Vienna before t' war, an' it's a fascinating insight he gave me into th' working of t' human mind. I've put his teaching t' good use. If anyone can get yer laddie t' talk, it will be me."
"Well, I wish you luck at it! He's a tough nut to crack. Now, if you'll excuse me sir, I need to brief my men about this mission."
"No problem, Lieutenant! Let me just make my phone call, then I'll be gone!"