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Chapter Five: Delicate
"There is no illusion greater than fear."
Lao Tzu
BPOV
Edward's request barely registers through the haze of my spinning thoughts and twisting stomach. The code was a warning.
"Per risum multum poteris cognoscire stultum."
"Huh?" I ask, confused by Charlie's bizarre Latin comment.
"Through the laughter you will be able to recognize the fool." He leans back in his chair with a smile.
"What does that have to do with me getting close to this target?"
"That is your in, his blind devotion. Only a fool gives their trust completely to any one entity. Stultum, Bella, stultum."
The CIA is no longer secure, which means our path to safety is closed. I'm grateful, yet surprised that Edward relented to my demand so easily. I don't know whether that is good or bad, his trustworthiness is still unknown even though he continues to prove his worth.
"Do you hear me, Bella?" Edward's narrowed eyes dare me to respond.
Charlie's voice drifts into my thoughts before I can form an answer. "There are no friends in the world of black ops. Accept that now."
His words are a reminder to be alert and cautious. Charlie wouldn't have sent that code unless something significant had happened. Maybe he figured out who is working for Laurent on the inside, worst yet, maybe he was the one compromised. All I know is that if Charlie doesn't trust the CIA, neither can I.
"Bella?" Edward pushes, clearly not backing down.
Feeling cornered, I relent and nod my head in silent agreement even though I know that I won't be able to fulfill it. Now isn't the time to let my guard down. I'll find a way out of it when the time comes, I always do. Right now, the lie doesn't matter. Without being able to come in, I need to take things into my own hands. Getting Tyler and I to safety is my primary focus.
Tyler's whimpers pull my attention away from Edward's demands. His body barely stays on the narrow seat as he tosses and turns in discomfort. I was stupid to believe that his consciousness was a good sign. It was a delusion born out of desperation. The harsh reality is that he is getting worse.
"I'm going to check on Tyler." I move back over the seat avoiding Edward's intense stare. Kneeling beside him to place a hand on his forehead, my chest constricts as soon as my skin touches his. "Dammit."
"What?" Edward's panic mirrors my own.
"He has a fever. Fuck, fuck, fuck."
Pushing up his shirt, I gently probe his chest and stomach. There is more going on with him than a head wound. The fever indicates an infection, but the distention and color of his skin are alarming.
"Internal bleeding."
"Probably."
"He needs help." Edward's eyes meet mine in the rear view mirror. He knows what this means just as much as I do; we are running out of time.
"It's going to take close to five hours to get there." I search my bag for anything I can use to buy us more time.
"I'll try to make it closer to four." The car lurches forward as Edward presses on the gas, pushing it to its limits.
Running through my medical knowledge, I check Tyler's ABC's: airway is open; breathing is…shit, tachypneic; circulation is troubling. The shock he's experiencing is a sign that his body is trying to keep his cells oxygenated. This is the body's temporary fix; it's the only thing buying us time to get him help. Laying my head on his chest, I listen for any reverberations of fluid. Although his lungs sound clear, I'm concerned that the trauma to his chest is causing a build up around them, possibly a hemothorax.
"What do you think?" The car's taxed engine almost drowns out Edward's questioning voice.
I frantically pull out items from my bag, before giving up and throwing it to the floor. "I don't know. I don't know."
Kneeling on the seat beside Tyler, I search the rear deck, irrationally hoping that some magic gadget will be laying on top of it to help me. Grabbing my bag again, I search for my phone. I've kept it off for days, unsure of whether it was compromised. I have no choice but to take the chance and use it. Turning it on, I will it to power up quickly, the seconds taunting me while I wait. Flipping through my contacts, I push the call button for my only salvation at this point.
"Bella! To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected call?" Emmett's cheery voice answers. His happy-go-lucky nature usually brings me joy, but today it's not enough to break through the desolation.
"Tyler's hurt. We're on our way to you."
"What do you need?" Purpose replaces his carefree tone.
"He won't make it the whole way there. I need you to meet me at the border with supplies."
"What's your E.T.A.?" I can hear him running to gather what he needs.
"We are about three hours from crossing into Pakistan."
"Where?"
"Near Khost."
"I'll be there. What are his injuries?"
"Head wound with possible intracranial pressure and probable internal bleeding in his upper thorax region. He's in shock with a shaky pulse. We'll need blood, saline, and surgical gear."
"Jesus. Okay, I'll have everything you need, I promise."
The vice around my chest eases. "Thank you."
"You know I'd do anything for you. Focus on getting here, and leave the rest to me. See you soon." Once he hangs up, I turn the phone off, praying that the call didn't add another complication.
"Good friend?" Edward's curious eyes search mine through the rearview mirror.
"Yeah."
"Next time you have to make a call, use my phone." The directive is unyielding. "We don't need any more surprises."
"Sure," I murmur, non-committal. His phone is even more unknown than mine is and the last thing I intend to do is to put my contacts at risk by my actions.
We fall into an uncomfortable silence as Edward focuses on the road, and I tend to Tyler. I'm frustrated that I can't do anything more than monitor his deteriorating symptoms. True to his word, Edward gets us to Khost faster than expected. I can feel eyes watching us as we get closer, the remnants of the Gulan Camp a sobering reminder that we have more to worry about than Laurent and his men.
Edward vigilantly scans the surrounding area. "What's our story?"
"We're trying to find an aid station that will help him." I've always found that simple lies are best.
"Seriously?"
"As soon as I tell them that he has a mysterious and extremely contagious disease, I don't think the guards are going to care too much about letting us go." Sifting through my bag, I pull out two more masks. "Here put this on."
His lips curl into a narrow smirk. "I don't know whether you are brilliant or crazy."
"Probably a bit both." My decisions often balance on that thin line. It is the nature of the game. In this instance, however, I know that the people looking for us won't have any influence here. Our western appearance, combined with a threat of illness should be enough to persuade the graveyard shift to let us pass.
Edward slows even further as we near the border. Soldiers stand on both sides of a ramshackle barricade. There are no fences or walls in this section, which is part of the reason it became a harbor for refugees fleeing Pakistan.
"This one is on you, Mira. I don't speak the language," Edward whispers as though he is afraid they will overhear.
Jumping across the seat, I adjust my hijab, watching as one of the soldiers moves to the middle of the road waving his gun. "Here we go."
Edward rolls down the window for the Pakistani guard marching towards us. The wind rushes into our small space, bringing with it the smell of heat and sand.
Leaning down, the soldier eyes us sharply. He is trying to maintain a brave front, but the fatigue lining his face is hard to miss. "What is your destination?"
I breathe a sigh of relief. The languages of Pakistan are diverse. The guard could have spoken anything from English to Urdu, which I'm not as fluent in. His use of Dari, however, makes sense given the border he is guarding. Edward looks over calmly even though he has no clue what the guard asked.
Leaning over, I keep my eyes lowered and answer. "We need to get to an aid station." The wording flows easily. Charlie demanded excellence in my multi-lingual ability.
"There is an aid station in Khost," he responds curtly, glaring at Tyler.
"They wouldn't accept him."
The guard's sharp eyes shift back to me. "Why?"
"They just wouldn't. Please, sir, he's sick and we just want to get him help."
He moves to the back door. "I need to search the car."
"I wouldn't do that!" His hand freezes on the handle as he considers his options, probably calculating the odds of a ploy. "It's not safe," I caution, motioning to my mask.
Letting go of the handle and moving back to our window, his hand tightens around the trigger of his gun. Out of my peripheral vision, I see Edward's hand subtly moving towards the gun on his hip. I need to convince the guard to let us go before we find ourselves in a fight we cannot win.
"Why are you wearing masks?"
"He's contagious. It's why they wouldn't accept him at the other aid station."
The guard takes a step back. "What's wrong with him?"
Relaxing the stronghold over the day's emotions, I allow my eyes to fill with tears and choke my words. "We don't know. No one knows. Five of our friends have already died." As if on cue, Tyler moans, sweat dripping down his face. The guard backs up further, wiping the hand that touched the door on his clothes. He's wavering. "Please, I don't want him to die." Come on. Take the bait.
Unexpectedly, Edward starts coughing, his body shaking with each hack. The guard continues to walk backward while pulling a bandana from around his neck over his mouth. Edward's move was a brilliant ad lib. "Go on," the guard yells waving us through. He then calls out to the other soldiers to let us go due to a contagion. They blindly follow his command, stepping back as we pass.
Crossing into Pakistan, Edward rolls up the window, glancing cautiously in the rearview mirror. "Well played."
"Never underestimate a person's fear of the unknown. Nice touch with the cough."
"You got him to the edge; I just provided the final push." He eyes me closely. "Why do I get the feeling that you've handled this type of situation more than once?"
I shrug my shoulders, avoiding his question. "There is a small village a few miles ahead. That is where he should be."
"You sure? I didn't hear you talk about a specific location."
"I'm sure."
I've known Emmett long enough to predict his decisions. They are similar to mine. My eyes sweep the area as the village comes into view. "Village" is an overstatement; it's really just a grouping of tents and temporary shelters.
"What are we looking for?" Edward slows the car.
Emmett is located a few hours from the border, so it's not out of the realm of possibility that we've arrived first. "He'll probably be in a van." I spot a building up ahead. It's one of the few abandoned signs of civilization. "I don't think he's here yet, park over there so we can monitor traffic."
"Yup, I see it, but I think I'd better keep the car running. There's no telling if we'd get this thing started again."
"Good plan." We're lucky it made it this far.
Pulling into a dirt parking lot, he turns off the lights and drives around the building to park along the wall on the other side. We sit quietly looking for both signs of trouble and rescue. Glancing behind, I watch Tyler's chest rise and fall, the motion looks distorted, his body fighting to work.
"Come on, Emmett!"
"Is that who we're waiting for?" Edward asks in response to my exasperated reveal.
"Yeah."
"You trust him?" Edward keeps his eyes straight ahead, but I can feel the fervor of his question.
"I wouldn't have called if I didn't."
Edward huffs out an exasperated breath. "I'm in the middle of this with you. You have to stop treating me as if I'm an enemy. The more I know, the more I can help."
The sincerity in his eyes is hard to ignore. Something about him disarms me. It's a foreign emotion. "I get that, but now is not the time."
"Seems to me we have nothing but time."
"I…" Before I can come up with a logical excuse, headlights draw our focus to the road ahead.
Automatically, we grab our weapons preparing for the worst. Even though they are coming from the right direction, we can't take any chances. The shining lights and surrounding dark make it difficult to identify the model of vehicle. Slowing down, the now revealed white van pulls into the parking lot in front of us.
"What do you think?" Edward asks, arming his gun.
"Looks promising," I answer hesitantly, yet still following his lead. If they start shooting, I want to be ready.
The van drives right to our bumper before stopping. Holding my breath, I watch closely as the door opens. When Emmet steps out, I quickly put the gun down and throw open the door to run over to him.
"Thank God you're here." His arms sweep me up into a tight hug. "He's dying."
Releasing his hold, he pulls me around to the back of the van. "I brought everything you asked."
Opening the door, I'm amazed by what I see. Somehow, he was able to set up a makeshift ambulance, complete with a gurney.
"How did you…" My body sways, relief replacing the fear. I can save him.
He flashes a devious smile. "I cashed in some favors. It's the least I could do." His unspoken words lay heavy between us. No matter how much I argue, he still believes that he owes me.
Jumping into the back, I pull on the gurney. "We need to move." Emmett helps me to get it out of the van and over to the car.
Edward is waiting for us, the back door already open. "I've got him ready."
I run around to the other side, helping to push while Edward and Emmett maneuver Tyler out of the backseat and onto the gurney. It takes all of three of us to roll it awkwardly over the rough gravel, the tires twisting and shaking. Emmett gets into the van first, grabbing the gurney to help pull it up. I quickly follow.
"What the hell happened?" he asks, shocked by Tyler's appearance.
"Grenade." I pull on Tyler's shirt to expose his chest. It is now a deep purple, the bruising intensifying.
"Fuck. Okay, what do we do?" Emmett rolls up his sleeves.
"I need to relieve the internal pressure."
"Whatever you do, I suggest you do it quickly. This isn't the best spot to hang around," Edward comments from the doorway, scrutinizing the road.
"He's right," Emmett agrees, eying him cautiously.
"Emmett, this is Edward." Looking over I catch his eye. "He's CIA."
"Hey." He nods towards Edward in way of an introduction. "Welcome to hell." Emmett has always hated the Middle East.
"Thanks," Edward utters sarcastically.
Tyler moans, his body writhing. Placing my hand on his head, I panic when I feel burning heat. He needs a hospital now. "We need to move. Edward can drive. Emmett, I need you to assist." Rummaging through the equipment in the van, I pull out the needed surgical gear.
"Wait! What exactly are you suggesting?" Edward asks aghast, watching me prepare a tray. "You're going to work on him while we drive?"
"Yes." Finding the saline and O negative, I hook Tyler up quickly. I found out a few years ago that I have a knack for hitting a vein. "Where are we going, Emmett?"
"Doc Black is getting ready for us."
My head snaps ups. "Doc is here?"
"You know Doc, he goes where the cause is. Do you think you can actually do this on the move?"
"We don't have time to wait. I can stabilize him, but he needs more."
Edward is still scanning the road, his legs twitchy. "Then we better go." Although I hear uncertainty, he moves with resolve. "I'll grab our bags. Emmett, I need the keys."
"They're up front," Emmett responds, watching me closely.
Focused on my task, my footing falters when we start backing up. Widening my stance, I work to find my balance against the swaying movement of the van. Emmett does the same, holding onto the side when Edward turns around. This might be harder than I thought.
There is a small window connecting the cab to the back of the van allowing me to see Edward. "I need directions." His voice is hard.
"Go right and head towards Bannu. I'll tell you where to go when we get closer," Emmett answers.
"Got it."
Tyler groans when I prod his chest. "Did you bring any sedatives?"
"Doc threw a bunch of stuff in that bag to your left."
Digging through it, I find a vial of Propofol and a syringe. Calculating the proper dose, I shoot it into the saline line already connected to Tyler's vein.
"What are you going to do?" Emmett asks.
"He needs a chest tube."
"That means you have to cut him open, right?"
"Yes, but it's a small incision." I rationalize, knowing that I am taking a huge risk.
He needs a medical workup to see the full extent of his injuries and determine the best course of action, especially given the presentation of his various symptoms. Yet, if I don't do something, he's not going to make it to Doc to get that assessment.
"You're seriously going to do this?" Although I can't see Edward's face, the dismayed head shaking is an obvious indication that he is losing confidence in my plan.
"You sure?" Emmett asks.
"I don't really have a choice now do I." My nervous hands fumble as I sanitize the instruments around me. I need to get it together.
"This is insane. You realize that, right?" Edward challenges.
"He's got a point, Bella. This is incredibly risky." It's rare to see fear in Emmett's eyes; I try to ignore it.
"I know." The noise is making it hard to concentrate. "Just let me think." I close my eyes, take a breath, and focus.
"What is she doing?" Edward probes.
"Sshh, let her concentrate," Emmett chastises.
Plunging into the depths of my memories, the bouncing van fades away the further I fall.
"Your name is Emily Watson, and you're a trauma surgeon," Charlie's voice echoes.
"A surgeon?"
"Yup. You know what that means?"
"I have a lot of studying to do," I quip trying to offset my trepidation. Sleep will elude me over the next few days. A surgeon will not be easy to pull off.
"There is a pile of books for you in the library and a list of sites to visit. Study as if someone's life depends on it."
"Yes, sir."
The memory of the library overwhelms my senses. The smell of the aging books as real as if they were in front of me. Mentally flipping through the pages, I try to visualize the text instruction on inserting a chest tube. The words and pictures preparing me for what I need to do. It's a routine emergency procedure, yet I'm also painfully aware that the lungs are delicate. One wrong move and I'll cause more damage.
Opening my eyes, I stare into Emmett's. "I'm ready."
"Tell me what to do," he says, steeling himself.
"Cut his shirt open." The words rush out as I hand Emmett scissors. "Try to drive smooth," I call out to Edward, putting latex gloves on.
"We're on a crumbling road, but sure, I'll make it the smoothest ride you've ever had," Edward scoffs. "This is fucking crazy."
"That's not helping. Just focus on your job and let us do ours," Emmett rebukes, putting on his own set of gloves.
Grabbing a small bag of medical tubing, I search for the right one. "Dammit!" None includes an underwater seal.
"What?"
"Nothing." I don't have the luxury of being picky. Choosing one that is about thirteen millimeters in diameter, I pour antiseptic over it and hand it to Emmett. "Hold this." Taking a breath, I mentally prepare knowing that once I start there will be no going back. "A chest tube helps drain the fluid from the pleural space around the lungs," I mutter, repeating objective facts to keep myself calm. "First, I prepare the area."
Gently moving his arm above his head, I take an antiseptic wipe and run it from his armpit past his chest. Taking the scalpel, I place my hand on the side of Tyler's chest. This is an easy procedure, I remind myself. I can do this. Feeling along his sides, I count his ribs, looking for the right space to make the one and a half inch incision. Steadying my hand, I place the scalpel along his skin. "Be ready to hand me the gauze."
"I'm ready. You can do this, Bella."
Taking another breath, I press the knife in, watching crimson ooze in the wake of its path. Cautious of my pressure, I push in further. I need to be deep enough to place the tube, but not so deep that I puncture the lung. "Gauze." I hold out my hand. Emmett quickly places some in it.
"How's it going?" Edward demands anxiously.
"She's doing good," Emmett replies.
Wiping the blood, I use my fingers to widen the hole, preparing it for the tube. Instantly, blood gushes out, spilling onto the floorboard below. The sight affirms my diagnosis but complicates the procedure.
"Fuck," Emmett hisses.
My stomach churns when the bitter smell assaults my nostrils. Stop being weak! I'm not allowed to let the grotesque scene affect me. Narrowing my focus, I tune everything else out, a calmness washing over me. There is no time for self-doubt or fear.
"I need more gauze." Packing the wound, the flow slows. "Tube." I put out my hand again, focused on the incision. Once the tube grazes my glove, I snatch it away from Emmett. Lining it up, my balance precipitously falters as the van hits a bump. Quickly righting myself, my chest pounds, I could have easily killed him had I been pushing it in. We were lucky.
"Shit! Everyone okay?" Edward inquires.
"We're fine. This is the trickiest part. Try to hold the van steady."
"I'll do my best." Tension colors his words.
"Okay, let's try this again." Lining it up, I carefully push the tube in, gently working it into the right spot. The blood around the incision eases as fluid starts flowing from the chest tube. "Emmett, I need something to catch the drainage."
"Got it." Grabbing a bucket filled with supplies, he hastily dumps it out. "Will this work?"
"Umm, is there a plastic bag anywhere?" Since Doc didn't send a drainage canister that is probably the best alternative.
"Let me look." He turns checking the bags behind him. "Jackpot!" he declares triumphantly.
Grabbing it, I place it around the tubing taping them together with surgical tape. After cleaning the area the best I can, I grab the prepared thread and suture the tubing to his skin to prevent movement. Stepping back, I watch with quiet thankfulness as it stays in place.
"You did it." Emmett reaches over to pat me on the back.
Tyler appears to be breathing easier, the rise and fall of his chest no longer abnormal. Laying my fingers against his pulse point, I'm reassured to feel the steady beat of his strengthening pulse. Falling against the side of the van, my body collapses, amazed that I actually pulled it off.
"Bella? You okay?" It strikes me as odd that Edward would ask about my wellbeing over Tyler's.
"I think it's going to work. It at least bought us some time." I check the tube again making sure it's secure. Right now, it's Tyler's only lifeline. Although I feel better that the procedure was able to provide some relief, I also know that the device is less than adequate. The lack of a seal and proper drainage system creates a greater risk for things to enter the chest cavity as well. We need to get to Doc before other complications arise.
"We'll get him there." Edward proclaims as if he heard my unspoken concerns. He sounds more confident now that the procedure is over. "How long until we get to this doctor?"
Emmett moves forward so he can see out the front. "He's got a complex on the outskirts of Bannu. We should be there in about an hour."
"An hour my ass." Edward slams on the gas causing Emmett and me to sway as the van surges forward.
I find myself grinning at his insistence. I'm glad he was the one sent to us. My smile disappears at the unexpected thought.
"We can't trust him, Bella." Tyler's previous warning rattles around my head.
The night must be wearing on me. I never allow my feelings to interfere with a job. I have to get myself together and quick, no matter how drawn I am to Edward. Feelings like those will only interfere in my goal. Glancing out the window, I focus instead on the brightness of the stars, praying that their guiding light will get us to our destination safely. That is the only thing that should matter, not the man who is intent on getting us there.
Up next Bella has more to say and we meet Doc. Until then here is your weekly teaser.
"Hey," Edward stops, his fingers pulling my chin up to meet his now concerned eyes. "We didn't come this far to lose. He's in good hands with your friend."
"I know that, but that doesn't mean that I'm not going to worry until I can see it for myself."
"How about a distraction then? If I remember correctly, I was never able to finish cleaning up your wounds. And I would bet that somewhere around here is a much better medical kit than mine."
"I'm fine, really."
"Distraction, Mira, distraction." He starts walking towards the house again, holding onto my hand tightly.