Chapter 8 The Delay in the Departure

After a week of dusty but delightful time exploring Parker's Okavango Delta project, Zach had left the dig site to return to the airport, having caught a ride on the back of the Botswanan official's motorcycle. The man came out to the dig weekly to view their progress and make contact with any tribal leaders if Parker needed information regarding customs, religious traditions and the like. He had learned the value of being sensitive to, and respectful of local mores in his search for ancient remains. Brennan had taught him the propriety of this, but it also made dealing with local regulations and red tape much easier.

Concentrating on his microscopic examination of a discolored femur, Parker was oblivious to the sounds around him until he was shaken by the shoulder. "Sir, there's been an accident. The motorcycle your brother was on was hit by a drunken motorist as they entered Gambarone. Your brother and Benedict Tarombota were taken to hospital for examination of their injuries."

Parker stood up and stripped off his gloves. "What hospital?" he gasped, his breathing arrested by sudden worry for Zach's condition. "Do you know how badly they were hurt?"

"No, the call just came over the radio, and I came to tell you at once. They are at Xavier Medical Clinic. Do you want to take the jeep or the motorcycle?"

"I think I'll stick to the Jeep, thanks, Umboro, for your help."

"I hope your brother and Mr. Tarombota are okay. Please give them my wishes for their return to strength."

Bbbbbbbbbb

Parker pulled into the clinic parking lot, took the first space he found, and quickly exited the jeep, leaping over the side rather than using its door. Striding into the low white building, he sought the emergency department and stopped the first white-clad person he saw. The man's nametag read "Dominic, Radiology Technician."

"Sir, could you tell me where Zach Booth is being treated? He was brought in from a motorcycle wreck on the Cambala Road."

The ebony-skinned man gave him a sympathetic smile. "Are you a relative? Ah, his brother, I'd guess; your hair is lighter, but your eyes and your facial dimensions are very similar. Follow me. The drunken fool who caused that wreck should lose his license to operate a motor vehicle!"

Parker grinned at the technician, despite his worry over Zach. "You sound like my stepmother; you have quite an eye for bone structure, Dominic."

"And who might your mother be?" his guide inquired.

"She's a forensic anthropologist back in the States." Parker responded.

Dominic led him down a short hallway, into a large triage room lined with beds, and indicated two gurneys in the corner. "There is your brother and his companion. They were pretty banged up."

"Thanks, man. I appreciate your help."

"No problem. We will make sure to get them patched up and back on the road to good health, rest assured."

Bbbbbbbbbbbb

Zach was lying on his back, his eyes shut. A large gash crossed his temple, and his cheek was turning purple. His badly dented helmet lay on the bedside cabinet. His arm was splinted and swathed in bulky layers of gauze. In the next bed, Benedict Tarombota was propped up with a still-damp cast on his foot. Both men's slacks were abraded and torn from contact with the uneven asphalt roadway surface.

"Zach, buddy, how are you? Your arm is broken? Argh, is this gonna delay your practice opening?"

His brother opened his eyes, one of which was beginning to sport a shiner. "Parker, God, man, I'm glad you're here. The radiologist says my ulna is fractured slightly. It's not misaligned, thankfully, but he thinks a cast will augment its healing. We are both injured, but it could have been so much worse if the car had been going any faster. I understand the driver was inebriated, but at least he was a slow drunk." Zach said with a weak attempt at humor.

Benedict shifted in bed and nodded to Parker. "We were very fortunate, well, not being hit, but that it wasn't much worse. That fool, he should have his ankle and arm broken and see how he likes it. He wasn't even injured in the slightest; being drunk, he was totally relaxed. Quite unfair, in my opinion!" he declared indignantly.

"As soon as your arm is set, I can take you both out of here. I'll get you back home, Benedict, and Zach, you can return to our camp to recuperate. I doubt they'll allow you to fly for at least a day or two."

"This is going to mess up my schedule, but it can't be helped. I'd rather go back today, but I've already missed my flight, and I suspect the attending physician will recommend at least 24 hour of restricted activity. That's what I'd tell a patient of mine. I'm just thankful we weren't hurt worse. I'm going to need physical therapy once this cast comes off. It's a good thing I'm not a surgeon, huh, Parker?"

Bbbbbbbbbbbb

Two hours later, Zach and Parker were on their way back to the dig site, having dropped Benedict Tarombota back at his home. "You think I need to call Mom and Dad or Petra, or just let them know once I'm back stateside?" Zack asked his brother.

"Um, you probably better send them a text. Dad will be pretty stoic, but Mom will want to fly over here and check the credentials of the guy who casted your arm. Petra's likely to be upset, but they will be relieved to know you are ambulatory," Parker mused aloud. "Will the police require your testimony at the driver's court hearing or trial?"

"No, I gave them my statement, answered all their questions, and let them poke and prod me. The investigating constable said they could record my testimony by Skype or other technology and present it in court. If I should have to testify, they can establish a real-time link of some sort to interview or cross-examine me in the States at the Botswanan Embassy. But the driver's blood alcohol test was positive, so he didn't think much more beyond my statement would be required."

As Parker had predicted, Brennan and Petra were distraught at news of Zach's injuries, and Booth had to dissuade their mother from chartering Jack Hodgins' private jet to reach him. But after hearing which clinic treated him, Brennan realized she had met Zach's orthopedic physician at an osteological conference in Algeria some years earlier, and her rationality returned.

"Dr. Mogomotsi Kaboeadaemodimo is the finest orthopedist in all of southern Africa," she assured Zach.

The brothers could hear their father chuckling over the phone, "Of course, you know his doctor, Bones! Is there anyone on this planet you HAVEN'T met in your wide-ranging professional travels?"

That night trying to get comfortable on his narrow camp bed, Zach complained to Parker, "You remember those queen sized cots Dad told us Mom ordered for his whole unit when she went to Afghanistan during her Maluku dig? You need to get some of those for here; this bed is too narrow and way too hard for a good night's sleep. How do you put up with them?"

"Ha, just ask Bones what kind of accomodations she had on most of her digs; this is pretty luxurious compared to some I've been on. Stop gabbing and get some sleep, bro, you won't sleep on the flight tomorrow night. I don't want Petra mad at me because you're an exhausted zombie."

"Parker, thanks for coming to the clinic. I'm glad you were there."

"Heck, it's my fault you got hurt, asking you to come here."

"No way, man, I wouldn't have missed the chance to see all this; it's amazing what you're doing here!"
G'nite, Parks."

"G'nite, Zach. . . . ugf, we sound like the Waltons."

"Who's that? Nope, never mind. Zzzzz."

A/N: Am impaired driver transformed an OSU Homecoming parade from celebration to tragedy this past weekend, leaving me with the sad awareness of how often thoughtless misuse of a vehicle causes serious injury and misery to others. Sorry to be a downer, injuring a character, but that's where the brain led me.