George heard his lodger, Alex move about. It was 4am and far too early on a thursday morning to be awake and making noise. Mel was still fast asleep when George slipped out of bed to see what the problem was.
Alex was sat on the bathroom floor holding his left leg, Alex's dark blue towel was wrapped around his left stump. George had taken a leap of faith taking on a lodger who was both disabled and living off benefits, even if he was job hunting. Unusually, Alex had paid his four months rent up front. He was off to Cambridge in October and George would rent out the room to another student going to one of the London Universities. Alex stated he would take this room over the summer next year, if available. It was a win-win situation for Mel and George.
"What's up Alex?" asked the tired and disheveled 30 year old.
"Infection. Bad. I think I need to go to hospital." Alex pulled the towel way to reveal a red angry looking stump and a yellow boil, which looked ready to burst.
"Oh Christ!" George exclaimed before getting his phone
A chat on the phone to the on-call GP confirmed Alex needed to go straight to hospital and a ambulance was on its way.
Alex sat in casualty waiting for minor surgery to lance the infected area, clean and dress the wound. Tomorrow he was meant to be going to his orientation weekend for SIS and he would not be able to walk anywhere.
He dreaded his next phone call, Alex above all else hated feeling weak and helpless, but he was in hospital with no prosthetics and he would only be released if he had a responsible person to take him home and monitor him.
Three rings and Sylvia Smith picked up her phone and listened patiently to her great nephew ask if she could give him a lift back to his rented room.
"No darling, I insist you come here. You can contact the people about your course and sit and rest up... Its no bother. I'll drop you anywhere you like tomorrow. I've only seen you once since you came back and you look like you need a bit of feeding up. I'll be about 25 minutes." Sylvia was good to her word. She even had Alex's wheelchair, a thing Alex had thought was in storage. Alex felt guilty for not taking her offer up of room and board last year but Loughborough had been a learning curve in becoming fully independent. He rather spend a day at her house being fussed over than in hospital any day.
A ten year old Nissan Micra pulled up opposite the main entrance to SIS headquarters, oblivious of the parking restrictions, but a disabled badge was plainly on view. Four others stood and watched the driver, a grey haired old lady, get out and open the boot, before commanding "You, Young man, get this wheelchair out of here for me. I'm as old as I look and I can't lift things like I used too." The nearest bystander was a weedy, bespectacled dark haired youth who automatically went to help. The larger, fitter blond haired young man piped up, "Shouldn't your passenger be doing all the lifting." The old woman ignored the comment, and just told her young helper to erect the chair. Then the chair was wheeled to the passenger side door for the young man sat there, who manhandled himself from car seat to wheelchair with the old lady looking on. Sylvia then told her helper to take the bag in the boot to the waiting point, before thanking him profusely and calling him an absolute angel.
Another eight misfits arrived before Sylvia then told Alex to take care of himself and call her for a pick up on Monday if everything went OK or to call her and she'd come and pick him up in Wales if it did not. A short hug and his family moment ended, none of the other interns/recruits came with family to send them off. The blond haired creep then asked "Wales?"
Alex smirked knowingly "Special Forces training at Brecon. You really have no idea."
The minibus turned up before any other questions were asked and the other passengers got in. Alex lifted himself onto the buses step, and slid to the nearest seat. The driver folded the wheelchair, smiling as he placed the chair next to Alex's bag in the boot. he'd been fully warned of the disabled intern, he was just surprised he was in a wheelchair.
No one spoke during the journey. Alex slept fitfully knowing life at Brecon was hard with little comfort once you got there.
Sergeant Harry Dixon waited for the intake from SIS, five interns and eight recruits. One of particular interest. Medical was on alert, the intern in question had been in hospital yesterday with a serious infection. The message concerning the young man had been left by SIS.
Alex had spoken to Human Resources yesterday. He had been reassured that his course was strictly lectures, seminars and practicals suitable to his disability; so no hikes, runs, combat or the dreaded assault course. The woman called Jill, had cheerfully stated Alex had already passed SIS training in 2001. So just to think of it as a refresher.
The recruits lined up while the driver unloaded the luggage and assembled the wheelchair. Alex seated himself and then belatedly joined the others. A tall black sergeant screamed abuse as Harry walked forward with precise measured strides and started to wheel Alex away.
"I'm afraid it medical for you, Cub. If you're OK, you get to go to this afternoons classes. Its just general fitness assessment for everyone else. Sergeant Moore had been looking forward to making this sad bunch of no-hopers cry."
"Been keeping well yourself?"
"Not so bad, Cub. Only a few months left until my retirement. I'll see the winter intake in for the regiment, then head off to pastures new."
"Oh anything interesting, planned for your retirement?" asked Alex.
"I'll have six months to take stock and then Uni, I reckon. Probably the Open university, science degree. I never bothered with school when I was young. I wasted my time. The Army has shown me that self improvement is the key. I was an infantry grunt and I ended up running Special Forces training. I've taken a few courses to get me to uni level. After that who knows."
"That sounds like me. Maths at Cambridge. Tea boy for Smither's in the summer. After Uni, maybe GCHQ to number crunch there."
Medical was just the same as Alex remembered, the same Major poked Alex's leg and complained that he was still running a fever.
Alex joined the afternoon classes to see all his fellow interns looked knackered.
An instructor with Captain's pips gave the introduction to training "Right first thing first. You have all had you basic fitness tests.."
"Smith hasn't!" piped up the blond young man with an attitude. Alex cringed. Rule no. 1 was never draw attention to yourself it never ended well. Rule no. 2 never draw attention to anyone else it ended worse for you.
"Mr. Hopkins, right?" The poor misguided fool nodded instead of the required 'Yes Sir.'. "Mr Hopkins you now have kitchen duty for the next two days. You may have noticed Mr. Fletcher-Smith is disabled. We tailor the inductions to fit the interns requirements. Mr. Fletcher Smith is an intern for R&D in Q branch. I have been informed that he will be spending his summer making tea as no one trusts him after the hacking incident two years ago. As to his fitness, Mr. Fletcher Smith is fitter than any of you misfits, he has two Paralympic Gold medals from Athens last year. He hug up his water wings to go to Cambridge. I hear it has a fair maths department. So now I've told Cub's life story, You lot can tell me yours."
The young man at the front, who had helped Sylvia Smith earlier that morning, raised his hand.
"Yes Mr. Tybold."
"You called Mr. Fletcher-Smith Cub. Is that a codename?"
"That is nothing you need to know, but you can start."
With that Alex learned Mr. Tybold was the other intern for Q branch and a third year at Cambridge this autumn and still only 19.