Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this story.
I would like to thank Mrs. Eyre and VjeraNadaLjubav for beta reading and encouragement, and to Annuscka for being my first reader and giving me the last push for posting this one.
*** Carter cringed at the foul smell in the hut as he approached the form lying on the floor. It was covered with a stained blanket and he couldn't tell where the head or the feet were, but it was trembling, or rather, shaking violently, so it was alive. Now he only had to find out if it was Luka. He crouched by it and called Luka's name out, first softly, then in a firmer tone. The shape didn't move and Carter knew he would have to uncover it if he wanted to find out the truth. His hand hovered over the form for a moment, but somehow he couldn't make himself touch it. What if it wasn't Luka? He'd have to start his search all over again. And what if it was?
Suddenly, Carter took the blanket and pulled it away, grimacing at the stench. He uncovered a dark haired man, covered in filth and dry blood, lying in fetal position. Carter couldn't see his face, so he took him by the shoulder and turned him over. The man moaned and Carter stared at the sunken and pained features. It was Luka. There was a bruise on his forehead and he had a badly swollen black eye. Gillian crouched by Carter, took Luka's face in her hands and called out his name. One, two, three times. Luka didn't open his eyes. It seemed that he couldn't hear her.
Out of sheer instinct, Carter started to take Luka's vitals and to try to figure out what was wrong with him. Something had to be terribly wrong, since Luka's skin was almost ashen in color. He was running a high fever, was dehydrated, and the stench coming from his body told of a severe diarrhea. Carter felt Luka's belly and Luka gave out a sharp cry and opened his eyes for a brief moment. Carter was pretty sure that Luka was sick with malaria, but a sixth sense told him there had to be something else. He checked Luka's arms. There were cuts on both of them, and a large bruise on his left forearm, up to his elbow. He looked up at Gillian. She had stood up and had been talking to the woman in the hut for the last few minutes.
"Gillian," he called out. "Gillian, I really need you here." Why did she choose to chitchat when it was obvious her help was indispensable?
"Carter, this woman says Luka was run down by a truck yesterday, when they came to the camp."
"What?" Carter couldn't stop the panic from showing in his voice.
"He'd been sick for over a week and he just jumped off from the truck they were traveling in and was run down by the next one. She says he was raving. He couldn't stand up afterwards," Gillian's voice was neutral, as if she was reading the weather report. Carter glared at her for a minute while the cold hand of dread seized him deep inside. He knew that Gillian was faking self-confidence out of her own fear. He could see it in her eyes. He turned around and opened up Luka's shirt to assess him better.
"I need your help," he said, trying to keep his voice as neutral as Gillian's had been. He had to get Luka out of there.
Debbie had been trying to keep up a nonchalant conversation with the two young men in front of her for the past ten minutes but had failed miserably. The fact that they were holding automatic weapons almost larger than themselves didn't make things any easier. They were also extremely suspicious about her and her two companions, despite the fact they had arrived to the camp in a jeep marked with the Red Cross.
After two or thee unsuccessful starts, Debbie had offered the men a smoke and had asked them to keep the cigarettes. Now they were all smoking in silence. Debbie was trying to take deep and slow drags of smoke out of her cigarette so her nervousness wouldn't show. What could be taking Gillian and Carter so long? She knew it was better not to stare openly at the entrance of the hut, so she had turned her back at it, instead looking at the bottom of the valley. It was a nice view - one could see the road climbing up the steep slopes of the hills, like a deep red cut in the green vegetation. Great. Now she was thinking about wounds and blood once again. Debbie turned around when she heard a slight rustle behind her back.
Carter had emerged from the hut and was approaching them, blinking in the sunlight. The men tensed immediately. One of them threw away the butt of his cigarette and put a hand near the trigger of his gun. Carter lifted his hands instinctively, but faced Debbie instead.
"He's in there," he said. "He's alive, but we have to get him out of here. He needs to get to a hospital."
Debbie's eyes widened.
"A hospital?" she asked.
The nearest thing to a hospital was the one in Kisangani, four hours away if they were lucky, and Carter knew about the limited treatment options there.
"He needs to get to the OR. He has multiple fractures and peritonitis. We have to get the infection under control."
"To the OR?" repeated Debbie, astounded.
He spoke as if he was in some kind of well-equipped university hospital, not in the middle of the jungle in a country torn by war.
Carter nodded, apparently not aware of the absurdity of their conversation.
"What is he saying?" demanded the boldest of the lads.
He was tall and had a fierce look in his eyes. Debbie had tried to calculate his age and had concluded he must be getting close to his twenties. His buddy, who was very shy and didn't dare look her directly in the eyes, was probably around sixteen.
Debbie faced them and tried to sound nonchalant.
"The man in that hut is the one we're looking for. We're going to take him with us."
The young man shook his head slowly and defiantly.
"You aren't."
"What? You told us we could get him."
"He's alive, not dead. We said you could get a body, not a living person."
Debbie sighed. The guy wanted to get a better deal for himself.
"What is he saying?" asked Carter.
"Okay, it seems fair." ventured Debbie, disregarding Carter's question.
"Hey, Debbie. What is he saying?" Carter was insistent. He took her by the arm and forced her to look at him. Debbie noticed how the lad tensed when Carter spoke.
"He wants something else for your friend. Let me."
Carter faced the lad, defiantly.
"What do you want, then? This?" he asked while he started to unfasten the watch from his wrist.
It was a fine Rolex. It was probably the most expensive thing Carter had on. The next thing he would pull out would be money, and that would be a mistake. Debbie took him by the arm and pushed him back while she stepped forward.
"Let me handle this, Carter. You don't know anything about handling things like this."
It was too late. The guy had taken the watch and was examining it. Then he threw it away as if it had been a dirty rag. Carter reddened.
"Hey!"
"Carter!" Debbie squeezed Carter's arm to force him to look at her. "Let me do this!"
Carter stared into Debbie's eyes for a second. He suddenly seemed extremely defenseless and weary. The cool professionalism with which he had spoken when he had got out of the hut had vanished.
"Okay," he muttered.
Debbie glanced around. A couple of other rebels had noticed Carter's brief argument and were staring at them. The lines on the face of the tall guy had hardened with nervousness. He wasn't very high in rank and just wanted to take advantage of the situation if he could, and he wouldn't be able to do so if all his comrades were staring at him. Debbie drew another package of cigarettes out of her pocket.
"Let's have another smoke," she said, offering the first cigarette to the man. She then offered one to his companion. She held out the open package for Carter and prayed he would take one without comments. Carter hesitated for a second but then he stuck the cigarette between his lips. The tall guy held out a lighter for her.
"Thank you," she said, the first puff of smoke coming out her mouth as she spoke. She watched how the two of them lighted their cigarettes, taking their time, deliberately making Carter wait. He didn't seem too bothered, though. He was staring at the ground while the cigarette hung loosely from between his lips.
"Shouldn't we sit down?" Debbie nodded towards the shadow of the trees and hoped the two rebels would accept. They quickly looked around and then the taller one motioned her with an almost gallant gesture. Debbie took the lead and sat down. The two rebels squatted in front of her and Carter sat by her side, a little further away. He let his arms rest on his knees, the smoking cigarette now between his fingers. Well, at least he would let her carry this out.
She looked at the two guys in front of her.
"So. You want your buddy back?" the tall one asked, something in the tone of his voice making Debbie's skin crawl.
How should she handle this? Should she tell this guy that the man in the hut wasn't that important for them anyway to lower the prize? No, that wouldn't do. The way Carter and Gillian had hurried into the hut and the expression on Carter's face when he came out to talk to her were more than evident. Besides, the situation here wasn't about lowering the price, it was only about getting Carter's friend out of the wretched place without letting the higher ranks notice.
She just nodded. She had been about to tell the guy that retrieving the body of Carter's friend had been the reason for their journey but she decided against it in the last minute. It would make their position even more insecure than what it already was.
The man smacked his lips and nodded in turn. The bargain had begun.
"It may be complicated." he started. His voice trailed off. It was her cue.
"I'm sure you'll be able to arrange something," she said.
"It'll be expensive. I will need to talk to my commander."
Debbie nodded towards Carter's watch.
"That watch is expensive," she commented.
"My commander is rather touchy. And to let a prisoner go like that is not..."
The man fell silent, trying to find the right word.
"Usual?" Proposed Debbie.
"Yeah, that's it. Not usual."
"Of course you'd also be rewarded for your efforts."
The guy scratched his chin.
"I don't know if I'll be able to convince him."
"We'd appreciate it if you could."
A brief pause followed.
"I'll take his shoes," the guy said at last, pointing at Carter's feet.
Carter looked up for the first time during the conversation.
"What is he saying?" he asked.
"He wants your shoes too," said Debbie.
"My shoes? For Luka?"
Debbie nodded and prayed that he wouldn't start undoing his laces right away, but Carter seemed stunned. He raised his eyebrows.
"Really?"
Oh God. That was the wrong word. It undervalued their trading item. Debbie held her breath. There was a strained silence, and then the shorter, quieter man spoke.
"It's going to be very difficult," he said.
Debbie looked at them. They waited patiently. They hadn't understood Carter's words and had misinterpreted his reaction, thinking that he was reluctant to let his shoes go. The taller one shrugged.
"But then, if you can't." He started to stand up.
And then Carter put out his cigarette and began to undo his laces.
Debbie walked towards the jeep. Carter was standing by the open back door, looking fixedly at her.
"What took you so long?" he complained when she was still at some distance from the car.
Debbie sighed. She didn't want to argue with an overanxious American. They were all too loud and drew too much attention to themselves. They were not out of the camp yet, and for all she knew, Carter's friend could be unloaded from the Jeep at any moment.
"We'll leave soon, Carter. Don't worry," she said curtly as she walked past him.
"Don't worry? Don't worry? Hey, we've got a four hour journey ahead of us and he needs medical help immediately!"
Debbie glanced into the back of the Jeep where Gillian was adjusting an IV attached to the forearm of an incredibly dirty and skinny man and tried not to retch as a wave of stench from the man hit her. Oh God. They'd be traveling for four hours with that smell.
"It seems to me he's already getting some," she observed, making sure that she sounded as disdainful as she could. "Are you alright there, Gillian?"
Gillian nodded.
"Okay," said Debbie while she slammed the back doors and went around the jeep to get to the driver's seat.
"We can't do enough, Debbie. We don't have antibiotics, and he really needs an operation!" Carter hadn't finished his argument, and in fact, looked like he was only getting started.
"Carter, get into the Jeep or we might as well never leave!" Debbie snapped while she slammed the driver's door. Fortunately, Carter decided to follow her advice and climbed into the passenger's seat.
Debbie rubbed her neck and then took a last drag from her cigarette. She threw the butt to the floor and crushed it carefully, before lifting her gaze and looking at the dark sky. There were so many stars out here in Africa. One of her favorite pastimes here was to look up at the sky; it was so gorgeous. She often told herself she should have learnt more about stars and constellations when she had had the chance. But not tonight. Tonight she was too exhausted to think about anything.
She had driven four hours on rough dirt roads with a raving and moaning man in the back of the Jeep and a panicked doctor at her side, who kept on asking about the man's vitals every ten minutes. She had managed to stop Carter from urging her to go faster, but she hadn't been able to make him shut up.
In the middle of the journey, Carter had decided they had to perform some kind of procedure on his friend and had climbed to the back where he had then insisted that Debbie had to stop the Jeep. They had been in the middle of a very unsafe zone, and she had refused to stop. The risk of being stopped by either rebel or government troops had been too high. Then she spent the next thirty minutes arguing heatedly with Carter, until he had decided to try his luck and perform the procedure while the jeep was still moving. Fortunately, they had been successful, and Carter had finally decided to keep his mouth shut. The last part of the journey had thus been pervaded by a funereal silence, and had seemed endless.
If she hadn't been so drained, Debbie would have been utterly happy when she drove the jeep into the courtyard of the hospital at Kisangani and they finally took the poor wretch into the hospital. She thought about heading into the Red Cross quarters right there and then, taking a shower and crawling into bed, but had decided against it. She somehow couldn't rip herself away from that hospital; not before she found out if the guy had made it.
Why did it suddenly seem so important to know about his condition? She wasn't even sure she could remember his name. Wait. Luke? No, Luka. Luka, that was it. So, how had she gotten so worried about this guy's health? Was it because of Carter's insane obsession to save his friend? Or because of Gillian's concern, so intense that her silence only made it more evident? Gillian had been kneeling down the whole journey, alternatively checking the IV on the guy's forearm, holding his hand and wiping his forehead and cheeks, apparently oblivious of the stench of his body and the constant jerks of the Jeep as it drove over what seemed to be every pothole between the camp and the hospital. Debbie was sure her knees must have been raw when they finally got to Kisangani, but Gillian just jumped from the back of the jeep and hurried along with the group that carried Luka into the hospital.
Debbie shook her head while she realized once again she couldn't really identify what made her stay sitting on the bumper of the Jeep, waiting to see if this Luka made it through surgery. She looked at her watch. Ten forty-five. It had been more than three hours since they had arrived. Had they forgotten about her? It was very likely. She rose to her feet and then she spotted Carter coming out of the hospital.
"So, how is he?"
Carter shrugged wearily.
"He's still alive."
Debbie didn't know what to say. After a while she took out her package of cigarettes and offered one to Carter. He smiled.
"Is this your version of a cure-all?"
Debbie shrugged as she handed him the lighter.
"If you can't cure them, kill them," she said. Then she shuddered. She couldn't believe she had said such nonsense.
"I think the saying went somewhat differently," Carter said, his smile gone.
"I'm sorry, Carter. I didn't mean it." Debbie laid a hand on Carter's shoulder, apologetically.
"It's all right."
"Is it?"
"No, it's not."
Debbie sighed, appalled at her own foolishness. No, of course it wasn't. He had gone to great lengths to save his friend and there he was, not knowing if he would make it. He had been up since before dawn, had been traveling the whole day while working on his friend's injuries and had barely had anything to eat.
"Tell you what," said Debbie in her kindest tone. "Why don't you come with me to the compound, have a shower, something to eat and some sleep."
Carter smiled again, but shook his head.
"I can't. Gillian and I will have to take turns."
Debbie nodded.
"You could take the second shift," she offered. "Get a shower and some food. I would drive you back and get Gillian to the compound."
Carter rubbed his chin, grimacing as he felt the beginnings of stubble while he lifted his eyebrows.
"That sounds very tempting. But I think Gillian should go first."
"Sounds fair. And gentlemanly."
That made him chuckle. He nodded towards the building.
"I'll tell her."
He turned around to go back to the hospital, but changed his mind and faced her again. The smile had faded once more and the lines of his face had hardened with worry.
"Debbie."
"Yeah?"
"I'd like to ask another favor from you."
"Sure."
"We'll need to fly Luka to Kinshasa tomorrow."
"To Kinshasa!?"
"His pelvis is fractured and he's got a broken hip. He'll need orthopedic surgery. His kidneys might also be failing. He was very lucky, though. There was very little internal damage and no hemorrhage."
Debbie sighed, annoyed at Carter's toplofty professionalism.
"Are you aware of how difficult it is to get a flight to the capital? We're in the middle of a civil war, Carter."
"I know, I know!" he exclaimed in exasperation. Then he looked straight into Debbie's eyes, and she was torn by his troubled and imploring look. "Debbie, please."
Debbie closed her eyes, unable to look into his eyes any longer.
"All right." she sighed. "But I don't know how much it will cost."
Carter dug into his pocket and retrieved a large wad of bills. He put it in her hand, closing her fingers around it.
"I hope this will be enough. If it isn't, tell me. I'll get Gillian."
He turned around and walked briskly into the building, while Debbie watched him, surprised - but her surprise changed into astonishment when she realized what the denomination of the bills was and when she calculated just how much money he had given her.
I would like to thank Mrs. Eyre and VjeraNadaLjubav for beta reading and encouragement, and to Annuscka for being my first reader and giving me the last push for posting this one.
*** Carter cringed at the foul smell in the hut as he approached the form lying on the floor. It was covered with a stained blanket and he couldn't tell where the head or the feet were, but it was trembling, or rather, shaking violently, so it was alive. Now he only had to find out if it was Luka. He crouched by it and called Luka's name out, first softly, then in a firmer tone. The shape didn't move and Carter knew he would have to uncover it if he wanted to find out the truth. His hand hovered over the form for a moment, but somehow he couldn't make himself touch it. What if it wasn't Luka? He'd have to start his search all over again. And what if it was?
Suddenly, Carter took the blanket and pulled it away, grimacing at the stench. He uncovered a dark haired man, covered in filth and dry blood, lying in fetal position. Carter couldn't see his face, so he took him by the shoulder and turned him over. The man moaned and Carter stared at the sunken and pained features. It was Luka. There was a bruise on his forehead and he had a badly swollen black eye. Gillian crouched by Carter, took Luka's face in her hands and called out his name. One, two, three times. Luka didn't open his eyes. It seemed that he couldn't hear her.
Out of sheer instinct, Carter started to take Luka's vitals and to try to figure out what was wrong with him. Something had to be terribly wrong, since Luka's skin was almost ashen in color. He was running a high fever, was dehydrated, and the stench coming from his body told of a severe diarrhea. Carter felt Luka's belly and Luka gave out a sharp cry and opened his eyes for a brief moment. Carter was pretty sure that Luka was sick with malaria, but a sixth sense told him there had to be something else. He checked Luka's arms. There were cuts on both of them, and a large bruise on his left forearm, up to his elbow. He looked up at Gillian. She had stood up and had been talking to the woman in the hut for the last few minutes.
"Gillian," he called out. "Gillian, I really need you here." Why did she choose to chitchat when it was obvious her help was indispensable?
"Carter, this woman says Luka was run down by a truck yesterday, when they came to the camp."
"What?" Carter couldn't stop the panic from showing in his voice.
"He'd been sick for over a week and he just jumped off from the truck they were traveling in and was run down by the next one. She says he was raving. He couldn't stand up afterwards," Gillian's voice was neutral, as if she was reading the weather report. Carter glared at her for a minute while the cold hand of dread seized him deep inside. He knew that Gillian was faking self-confidence out of her own fear. He could see it in her eyes. He turned around and opened up Luka's shirt to assess him better.
"I need your help," he said, trying to keep his voice as neutral as Gillian's had been. He had to get Luka out of there.
Debbie had been trying to keep up a nonchalant conversation with the two young men in front of her for the past ten minutes but had failed miserably. The fact that they were holding automatic weapons almost larger than themselves didn't make things any easier. They were also extremely suspicious about her and her two companions, despite the fact they had arrived to the camp in a jeep marked with the Red Cross.
After two or thee unsuccessful starts, Debbie had offered the men a smoke and had asked them to keep the cigarettes. Now they were all smoking in silence. Debbie was trying to take deep and slow drags of smoke out of her cigarette so her nervousness wouldn't show. What could be taking Gillian and Carter so long? She knew it was better not to stare openly at the entrance of the hut, so she had turned her back at it, instead looking at the bottom of the valley. It was a nice view - one could see the road climbing up the steep slopes of the hills, like a deep red cut in the green vegetation. Great. Now she was thinking about wounds and blood once again. Debbie turned around when she heard a slight rustle behind her back.
Carter had emerged from the hut and was approaching them, blinking in the sunlight. The men tensed immediately. One of them threw away the butt of his cigarette and put a hand near the trigger of his gun. Carter lifted his hands instinctively, but faced Debbie instead.
"He's in there," he said. "He's alive, but we have to get him out of here. He needs to get to a hospital."
Debbie's eyes widened.
"A hospital?" she asked.
The nearest thing to a hospital was the one in Kisangani, four hours away if they were lucky, and Carter knew about the limited treatment options there.
"He needs to get to the OR. He has multiple fractures and peritonitis. We have to get the infection under control."
"To the OR?" repeated Debbie, astounded.
He spoke as if he was in some kind of well-equipped university hospital, not in the middle of the jungle in a country torn by war.
Carter nodded, apparently not aware of the absurdity of their conversation.
"What is he saying?" demanded the boldest of the lads.
He was tall and had a fierce look in his eyes. Debbie had tried to calculate his age and had concluded he must be getting close to his twenties. His buddy, who was very shy and didn't dare look her directly in the eyes, was probably around sixteen.
Debbie faced them and tried to sound nonchalant.
"The man in that hut is the one we're looking for. We're going to take him with us."
The young man shook his head slowly and defiantly.
"You aren't."
"What? You told us we could get him."
"He's alive, not dead. We said you could get a body, not a living person."
Debbie sighed. The guy wanted to get a better deal for himself.
"What is he saying?" asked Carter.
"Okay, it seems fair." ventured Debbie, disregarding Carter's question.
"Hey, Debbie. What is he saying?" Carter was insistent. He took her by the arm and forced her to look at him. Debbie noticed how the lad tensed when Carter spoke.
"He wants something else for your friend. Let me."
Carter faced the lad, defiantly.
"What do you want, then? This?" he asked while he started to unfasten the watch from his wrist.
It was a fine Rolex. It was probably the most expensive thing Carter had on. The next thing he would pull out would be money, and that would be a mistake. Debbie took him by the arm and pushed him back while she stepped forward.
"Let me handle this, Carter. You don't know anything about handling things like this."
It was too late. The guy had taken the watch and was examining it. Then he threw it away as if it had been a dirty rag. Carter reddened.
"Hey!"
"Carter!" Debbie squeezed Carter's arm to force him to look at her. "Let me do this!"
Carter stared into Debbie's eyes for a second. He suddenly seemed extremely defenseless and weary. The cool professionalism with which he had spoken when he had got out of the hut had vanished.
"Okay," he muttered.
Debbie glanced around. A couple of other rebels had noticed Carter's brief argument and were staring at them. The lines on the face of the tall guy had hardened with nervousness. He wasn't very high in rank and just wanted to take advantage of the situation if he could, and he wouldn't be able to do so if all his comrades were staring at him. Debbie drew another package of cigarettes out of her pocket.
"Let's have another smoke," she said, offering the first cigarette to the man. She then offered one to his companion. She held out the open package for Carter and prayed he would take one without comments. Carter hesitated for a second but then he stuck the cigarette between his lips. The tall guy held out a lighter for her.
"Thank you," she said, the first puff of smoke coming out her mouth as she spoke. She watched how the two of them lighted their cigarettes, taking their time, deliberately making Carter wait. He didn't seem too bothered, though. He was staring at the ground while the cigarette hung loosely from between his lips.
"Shouldn't we sit down?" Debbie nodded towards the shadow of the trees and hoped the two rebels would accept. They quickly looked around and then the taller one motioned her with an almost gallant gesture. Debbie took the lead and sat down. The two rebels squatted in front of her and Carter sat by her side, a little further away. He let his arms rest on his knees, the smoking cigarette now between his fingers. Well, at least he would let her carry this out.
She looked at the two guys in front of her.
"So. You want your buddy back?" the tall one asked, something in the tone of his voice making Debbie's skin crawl.
How should she handle this? Should she tell this guy that the man in the hut wasn't that important for them anyway to lower the prize? No, that wouldn't do. The way Carter and Gillian had hurried into the hut and the expression on Carter's face when he came out to talk to her were more than evident. Besides, the situation here wasn't about lowering the price, it was only about getting Carter's friend out of the wretched place without letting the higher ranks notice.
She just nodded. She had been about to tell the guy that retrieving the body of Carter's friend had been the reason for their journey but she decided against it in the last minute. It would make their position even more insecure than what it already was.
The man smacked his lips and nodded in turn. The bargain had begun.
"It may be complicated." he started. His voice trailed off. It was her cue.
"I'm sure you'll be able to arrange something," she said.
"It'll be expensive. I will need to talk to my commander."
Debbie nodded towards Carter's watch.
"That watch is expensive," she commented.
"My commander is rather touchy. And to let a prisoner go like that is not..."
The man fell silent, trying to find the right word.
"Usual?" Proposed Debbie.
"Yeah, that's it. Not usual."
"Of course you'd also be rewarded for your efforts."
The guy scratched his chin.
"I don't know if I'll be able to convince him."
"We'd appreciate it if you could."
A brief pause followed.
"I'll take his shoes," the guy said at last, pointing at Carter's feet.
Carter looked up for the first time during the conversation.
"What is he saying?" he asked.
"He wants your shoes too," said Debbie.
"My shoes? For Luka?"
Debbie nodded and prayed that he wouldn't start undoing his laces right away, but Carter seemed stunned. He raised his eyebrows.
"Really?"
Oh God. That was the wrong word. It undervalued their trading item. Debbie held her breath. There was a strained silence, and then the shorter, quieter man spoke.
"It's going to be very difficult," he said.
Debbie looked at them. They waited patiently. They hadn't understood Carter's words and had misinterpreted his reaction, thinking that he was reluctant to let his shoes go. The taller one shrugged.
"But then, if you can't." He started to stand up.
And then Carter put out his cigarette and began to undo his laces.
Debbie walked towards the jeep. Carter was standing by the open back door, looking fixedly at her.
"What took you so long?" he complained when she was still at some distance from the car.
Debbie sighed. She didn't want to argue with an overanxious American. They were all too loud and drew too much attention to themselves. They were not out of the camp yet, and for all she knew, Carter's friend could be unloaded from the Jeep at any moment.
"We'll leave soon, Carter. Don't worry," she said curtly as she walked past him.
"Don't worry? Don't worry? Hey, we've got a four hour journey ahead of us and he needs medical help immediately!"
Debbie glanced into the back of the Jeep where Gillian was adjusting an IV attached to the forearm of an incredibly dirty and skinny man and tried not to retch as a wave of stench from the man hit her. Oh God. They'd be traveling for four hours with that smell.
"It seems to me he's already getting some," she observed, making sure that she sounded as disdainful as she could. "Are you alright there, Gillian?"
Gillian nodded.
"Okay," said Debbie while she slammed the back doors and went around the jeep to get to the driver's seat.
"We can't do enough, Debbie. We don't have antibiotics, and he really needs an operation!" Carter hadn't finished his argument, and in fact, looked like he was only getting started.
"Carter, get into the Jeep or we might as well never leave!" Debbie snapped while she slammed the driver's door. Fortunately, Carter decided to follow her advice and climbed into the passenger's seat.
Debbie rubbed her neck and then took a last drag from her cigarette. She threw the butt to the floor and crushed it carefully, before lifting her gaze and looking at the dark sky. There were so many stars out here in Africa. One of her favorite pastimes here was to look up at the sky; it was so gorgeous. She often told herself she should have learnt more about stars and constellations when she had had the chance. But not tonight. Tonight she was too exhausted to think about anything.
She had driven four hours on rough dirt roads with a raving and moaning man in the back of the Jeep and a panicked doctor at her side, who kept on asking about the man's vitals every ten minutes. She had managed to stop Carter from urging her to go faster, but she hadn't been able to make him shut up.
In the middle of the journey, Carter had decided they had to perform some kind of procedure on his friend and had climbed to the back where he had then insisted that Debbie had to stop the Jeep. They had been in the middle of a very unsafe zone, and she had refused to stop. The risk of being stopped by either rebel or government troops had been too high. Then she spent the next thirty minutes arguing heatedly with Carter, until he had decided to try his luck and perform the procedure while the jeep was still moving. Fortunately, they had been successful, and Carter had finally decided to keep his mouth shut. The last part of the journey had thus been pervaded by a funereal silence, and had seemed endless.
If she hadn't been so drained, Debbie would have been utterly happy when she drove the jeep into the courtyard of the hospital at Kisangani and they finally took the poor wretch into the hospital. She thought about heading into the Red Cross quarters right there and then, taking a shower and crawling into bed, but had decided against it. She somehow couldn't rip herself away from that hospital; not before she found out if the guy had made it.
Why did it suddenly seem so important to know about his condition? She wasn't even sure she could remember his name. Wait. Luke? No, Luka. Luka, that was it. So, how had she gotten so worried about this guy's health? Was it because of Carter's insane obsession to save his friend? Or because of Gillian's concern, so intense that her silence only made it more evident? Gillian had been kneeling down the whole journey, alternatively checking the IV on the guy's forearm, holding his hand and wiping his forehead and cheeks, apparently oblivious of the stench of his body and the constant jerks of the Jeep as it drove over what seemed to be every pothole between the camp and the hospital. Debbie was sure her knees must have been raw when they finally got to Kisangani, but Gillian just jumped from the back of the jeep and hurried along with the group that carried Luka into the hospital.
Debbie shook her head while she realized once again she couldn't really identify what made her stay sitting on the bumper of the Jeep, waiting to see if this Luka made it through surgery. She looked at her watch. Ten forty-five. It had been more than three hours since they had arrived. Had they forgotten about her? It was very likely. She rose to her feet and then she spotted Carter coming out of the hospital.
"So, how is he?"
Carter shrugged wearily.
"He's still alive."
Debbie didn't know what to say. After a while she took out her package of cigarettes and offered one to Carter. He smiled.
"Is this your version of a cure-all?"
Debbie shrugged as she handed him the lighter.
"If you can't cure them, kill them," she said. Then she shuddered. She couldn't believe she had said such nonsense.
"I think the saying went somewhat differently," Carter said, his smile gone.
"I'm sorry, Carter. I didn't mean it." Debbie laid a hand on Carter's shoulder, apologetically.
"It's all right."
"Is it?"
"No, it's not."
Debbie sighed, appalled at her own foolishness. No, of course it wasn't. He had gone to great lengths to save his friend and there he was, not knowing if he would make it. He had been up since before dawn, had been traveling the whole day while working on his friend's injuries and had barely had anything to eat.
"Tell you what," said Debbie in her kindest tone. "Why don't you come with me to the compound, have a shower, something to eat and some sleep."
Carter smiled again, but shook his head.
"I can't. Gillian and I will have to take turns."
Debbie nodded.
"You could take the second shift," she offered. "Get a shower and some food. I would drive you back and get Gillian to the compound."
Carter rubbed his chin, grimacing as he felt the beginnings of stubble while he lifted his eyebrows.
"That sounds very tempting. But I think Gillian should go first."
"Sounds fair. And gentlemanly."
That made him chuckle. He nodded towards the building.
"I'll tell her."
He turned around to go back to the hospital, but changed his mind and faced her again. The smile had faded once more and the lines of his face had hardened with worry.
"Debbie."
"Yeah?"
"I'd like to ask another favor from you."
"Sure."
"We'll need to fly Luka to Kinshasa tomorrow."
"To Kinshasa!?"
"His pelvis is fractured and he's got a broken hip. He'll need orthopedic surgery. His kidneys might also be failing. He was very lucky, though. There was very little internal damage and no hemorrhage."
Debbie sighed, annoyed at Carter's toplofty professionalism.
"Are you aware of how difficult it is to get a flight to the capital? We're in the middle of a civil war, Carter."
"I know, I know!" he exclaimed in exasperation. Then he looked straight into Debbie's eyes, and she was torn by his troubled and imploring look. "Debbie, please."
Debbie closed her eyes, unable to look into his eyes any longer.
"All right." she sighed. "But I don't know how much it will cost."
Carter dug into his pocket and retrieved a large wad of bills. He put it in her hand, closing her fingers around it.
"I hope this will be enough. If it isn't, tell me. I'll get Gillian."
He turned around and walked briskly into the building, while Debbie watched him, surprised - but her surprise changed into astonishment when she realized what the denomination of the bills was and when she calculated just how much money he had given her.