Twenty Six
A doctor emerges from the tent Maddy is in and approaches Archer. He folds his hands over the folder he's holding before speaking.
"Miss Bowen is just resting now, sir," he says.
Two nurses exit the tent and stand near the doctor as he flips through Maddy's medical folder. He glances through her papers for a moment before looking up at Archer, who's standing as rigid as a statue in front of him.
"The bullet didn't go through any main arteries in her leg, nor did it harm any bones. There was only tissue and muscular damage, so she won't be able to walk on it for a couple weeks. We've cleaned and dressed her wound. She's doing fine."
Archer nods with his lips slightly pursed.
"I can take a look at that hand for you," the doctor offers when he notes the blood seeping through the gauze wrapped haphazardly around Archer's hand.
Archer looks down at the dirty, bloody bandage. He frowns with frustration as he stretches his fingers before clenching them into a fist. His injury stings when he tenses the skin of his hand.
"It'll only take a minute," the doctor says when he sees Archer's apprehension. "I could do it inside Miss Bowen's tent if you would prefer to remain close to your friend."
"A'right, doc."
Archer flashes a vague smile of appreciation. He walks past the doctor and nurses and heads into the tent. The doctor dismisses the nurses to tend to other patients before turning and following Archer. He places Maddy's folder down on a table and then approaches the portable sink to scrub his hands. He dries them and pulls on a pair of new blue medical gloves.
"Just sit anywhere, sir," the doctor tells him. He grabs his kit and arranges his tools.
Archer looks around for a place to sit. He walks over to Maddy's cot and looks down at her with a heavy heart. Her eyes are closed and her face is void of any expression of pain or discomfort. She looks calm. Archer watches as her chest rises and falls and he feels relieved seeing her sleeping as peacefully as she is knowing how deep into hell he's dragged her. He's glad that she's finally resting. She deserves it, he tells himself.
Archer puts his good hand in his pocket and touches his diamonds to remind himself that all this suffering will be worth it. He swallows hard and turns around.
The doctor is still setting up all that he needs to tend to Archer, so Archer grabs a stool and puts it down near the table the doctor is at. The older man looks up at Archer as he arranges his tools in the order he'll need them in.
"Mr. Archer, is it?"
"That's right," Archer nods.
"My name is Dr. Manai," he introduces himself. "Let me take a look at that injury, Mr. Archer."
Archer picks his dirty, casted hand up and drops it on the table in front of Dr. Manai, who smiles and laughs as he picks up his scissors to begin cutting the old dressing off. He tosses it into the garbage and drops the scissors into a cup of disinfectant fluid. He picks up a cotton ball and dips it in hydrogen peroxide before dabbing Archer's gash. Archer hisses unexpectedly.
"It looks like you tore up the stitches," Dr. Manai says. "I'm going to have to cut these ones out and do them over again. I will also give you a hard cast to keep your hand more protected."
Archer nods lamely. He balls up his free hand on his knee under the table. The peroxide stings terribly, much more than he was expecting it to.
"How do you know Miss Bowen?" he asks. He takes a fresh cotton ball to continue disinfecting the gash in his palm.
"We're friends."
"Do you work together?"
Archer gives a half shrug. He isn't here to answer questions, but he knows that he's in no position to disrespect the man cleaning his wound. Instead of offering up his usual remarks of aversion, he looks the doctor in the face and licks his lips.
"I suppose you can say our jobs allowed our paths to cross," he says with sarcastic poetry.
"You're both journalists?"
"I'm in a different line of work," he says simply.
Dr. Manai smirks and nods. He takes the small scissors back out of the cup and plucks his tweezers from his kit. He begins cutting the old stitches out.
"Maddy is quite outstanding," Dr. Manai continues between snips. He's careful with his steady hands. "I've known her casually, she's a pleasure."
"You dated?" he demands.
"Oh, no," Dr. Manai laughs without smiling. "We've only known each other professionally. We've been assigned to the same conflict zones. I offer medical aid at the UNICEF camps and she volunteers between getting her stories and her photographs. She's fearless, you know, and about as kind as they come."
Archer looks down at his hand and watches as Dr. Manai snips and plucks out the remaining stitches. He licks his lips again. He looks away to Maddy while Dr. Manai dips a new cotton ball in peroxide to give the gash another wipe. Archer feels even more guilty now. Everyone speaks so highly of Maddy and that makes Archer feel undeserving of her company, let alone a relationship.
"How did you get a cut like this, Mr. Archer?"
"Long story."
The doctor nods.
"You're lucky you did not strike any tendons," the doctor says. "This cut is fairly deep."
Archer looks back at his hand as the doctor threads a needle to begin stitching him up. He nods and pulls a cigarette from his pocket. He puts his between his lips tentatively. He can hear Maddy's small voice in the back of his skull advising him not to smoke inside the tent. He tucks the cigarette behind his ear and sighs.
"Oh, I don't mind if you smoke in here," the doctor responds.
Archer shakes his head. "Maddy doesn't like it when I smoke."
"That's very considerate of you."
"Ja ja," he says with a throaty chuckle. "I'm a very considerate man."