Alexis Castle, MD.
By
UCSBdad
Disclaimer: Guess what? I own no Castle. Rating: K+ Time: Several years after Season Eight.
Dr. Alexis Castle stood on the balcony of the top floor of the hotel and looked out over the dark and placid waters of Lake Tanganyika. The lights of the last boats to flee the Congo had disappeared over the horizon hours ago.
She stiffened as she felt a hand grab her ass. She slapped the hand away.
"Still the frigid little rich bitch, Alexis?" Dr. Alan Woods said, his voice slightly slurred by alcohol. "Live a little, Alexis. We who are about to die and all that?"
"Living a little with you is not my idea of a good time." She snapped.
"Poor little Alexis." Laughed the pediatrician, Julie Gruner. "Little Alexis doesn't know how to have fun. She'll probably die a virgin, much to her husband's disappointment." She giggled at that.
Julie put her arms around Alan and whispered in his ear, but loudly enough for Alexis to hear. "I can show you a good time. Better than little Alexis ever could. And you can show me a really good time."
"He certainly can show a girl a good time." Alexis said. "Unless he gets you pregnant. He's only here because he managed to knock up three women."
Woods snarled and moved towards Alexis. Julie held him back. "I don't think anyone of us has to worry about pregnancy. Let's go, tiger." She led Woods away.
Alexis turned and headed to the door. The only light was from a single Coleman® lantern. She had to walk slowly to avoid stepping on anything or anyone. She saw Bill Cranborn lighting up a joint. She knew that he did pot, but was always ready to go when he was needed. Sharon Cross, from some NGO, was wrestling with one of the nurses. Sharon had the nurse's blouse off and was working on her shorts. Someone had raided the pharmacy. There were bottles of painkillers all over one small table. Finally, she stepped through the door and out into the dark hallway. Since the power was out in the hotel, she headed for the stairs. Behind her she heard loud female laughter.
She stopped at the head of the stairs. This should have been the end of the month party. Everyone in the Doctors Without Borders and other NGOs would gather at the Hotel Lake Tanganyika for a nice dinner, a bit of wine and an evening where talking about work was absolutely forbidden.
Alexis decided she shouldn't have worn her silk dress to the party. It was unlined and she never wore a bra since the heat and humidity of the Congo gave her a rash. She did wear a pair of black bikini panties, but the silk was thin enough so that her body was quite apparent under the dress.
"They think I'll die a virgin." She muttered to herself. "Not likely." She smiled. "If they only knew."
Things had started to go wrong at about ten in the morning. From the hospital they could hear and just see a large Convoy of Congolese Army trucks headed south. Someone said they counted fifty-eight trucks. Each truck was jammed full of soldiers. Alexis saw one soldier get thrown off a truck when it hit a pothole. He was hit by the next truck which made no attempt to swerve. Every other truck ran over him as well. When the convoy was gone you couldn't tell he had once been a human being. The convoy was followed by other vehicles: jeeps; civilian cars; white painted UN vehicles, doubtlessly stolen; and even a hearse, filled with troops. Alexis heard someone remark that the soldiers didn't seem to have many weapons and no heavy weapons at all.
Dr. Brennan, the head of the local Doctors Without Borders got on the satellite phone to talk to their headquarters in Goma. They were told that the Congolese Army had reported a small attack by rebel forces but that they had been defeated and pushed back. Dr. Brennan told Goma what they had seen. From the number of vehicles and how packed with troops they were, it looked like the whole Congolese Army brigade in the area had fled. After a quick conference in Goma, they were told it might be best for them to evacuate across Lake Tanganyika and into Tanzania. They were told to drive to Kalemei, twenty miles to the north, and from there take a ferry across the lake to Tanzania.
Doctor Brennan told everyone that they could only take one suitcase, but no one paid that any attention. Between arguments, and people trying to jam their extra suitcases into already overloaded vehicles, it took three hours for them to set off.
Alexis had asked Dr. Brennan if they could also take the staff of the Catholic hospital they worked with along.
"I was told to evacuate our people and the others from the NGOs. No one said anything about the hospital."
Alexis had found that Dr. Brennan took orders very seriously and very literally.
Even so, Alexis took her white Land Rover ® and drove to the hospital. Half a dozen people ran after her since they thought she was escaping with their luggage. Alexis didn't care.
She met with Sister Marie, the senior nun. Sister Marie was an old African woman who had seen everything starting with the end of Belgian rule in 1960 and everything following.
"Do not worry about us, Doctor Castle." Marie said. "The Good Lord will provide as He always has. Now, go to Tanzania. We'll be fine."
"Sister Marie, you have six nuns, ten lay nurses and three young men here. Terrible things could happen to them."
Sister Marie smiled.
"Oh, the three young men had already fled into the bush. As for the rest, we'll be fine. Please go while you still can."
She left, but felt terrible.
They were too late by the time they got to Kalemei. The two remaining ferries were jammed with fleeing troops who shot at anyone who tried to board. They saw three small motor boats at the next dock, but by the time they got there, the soldiers had taken them over and were fleeing across the lake. They saw the inhabitants of a fishing village to the south get in their boats and sail away, all while being shot at by soldiers on the shore.
Returning to their vehicles, they found they had been stolen. They managed to all jam themselves into a jeep someone had left behind, but most of the luggage was lost.
She walked down the stairs and went into the bar. Perhaps a drink would settle her nerves for the ordeal which lay ahead. Congolese rebels were known to be violent, undisciplined and greedy. They'd take anything they wanted, including women, and lives.
She heard a hum coming from the bar area. Looking, she found that someone had hooked up the emergency generator to the bar. She smiled to herself. That said something about the priorities in the Congo, but she wasn't sure what. She found that the lights still didn't work, though.
She opened the refrigerator and found two microwaveable sandwiches. One was meatball and one was a submarine sandwich. She realized she hadn't eaten since breakfast and took both sandwiches out. She found the microwave and put the first sandwich in. The microwave worked. She grabbed a can of Coke ® from the refrigerator and waited for the first sandwich to heat, then put in the second one. Then she sat down to her dinner.
Once done, she went back to the bar. She filled a glass with ice and then got out a bottle of rum and another can of Coke®. She thought about it, and then poured two fingers of rum into the glass and filled the rest with Coke®. She drank slowly but was soon ready for another drink. She wondered if it would be best to be too drunk to notice she was being raped and then murdered, but decided if that were the case, she'd face it with a clear head.
She only put one finger of rum in the glass and sipped it slowly. Then she heard the sound of heavy engines headed her way. She could look from the bar out through the main door of the hotel and onto the road outside. She was sure she saw tanks heading down the road, followed by some sort of armored vehicles and then by large, military trucks filled with soldiers. Then a truck, preceded by a jeep, turned away from the main column and headed for the hotel.
She heard an odd rattling sound. Looking down, she saw her hand was shaking so badly that the ice cubes in her glass were rattling. She had to take her other hand to push the glass down onto the bar and release it.
Outside, the truck and jeep had stopped. The soldiers jumped out of the truck and surrounded the hotel. They wouldn't want anyone to escape, she thought. One man left the jeep and walked in the dark towards the hotel. He stopped, looked around and walked in.
Alexis closed her eyes and tried not to shake. She could hear his footsteps approaching her and then they stopped. He must be right in front of her. She could smell sweat and cordite on him. Suddenly, he took her left hand and examined it. Then he spoke.
"You must have graduated from Columbia, gotten a job helping people, but you apparently haven't found a good man yet."
How could anyone know that? She thought. Then the answer hit her. She opened her eyes and looked at the man standing there in the dark bar.
"Spartacus!" She said and threw her arms around him. "What are you doing here?"
"Keeping your ass safe, as usual."
She suddenly remembered the other soldiers, the people upstairs and the nuns and the hospital.
"Please help…The people upstairs…Doctors and NGOs…The nuns…They're no danger…Please…Don't let the soldiers…Please."
She realized she was just babbling and stopped. Spartacus put his arms around her and stroked her hair.
"Don't worry about a thing, Alexis Castle. But to begin with I'm not Spartacus. I'm Colonel Jean Renard."
"Renard means fox in French."
"Very good Miss Columbia University." He laughed. "And don't worry about the soldiers. That's my brigade out there. They're well trained, well-armed, well paid and well disciplined. And well led, if I say so myself. They aren't going to bother anyone. But what are you doing here?"
"I graduated from Columbia Medical School and needed to intern someplace. I decided to intern with Doctors Without Borders. There are other doctors and NGO personnel on the top floor. They've been drinking and…stuff. They're afraid they'll all be killed by the rebels. They'll be okay, won't they?"
"Sure. I notice you're not up there with them. Still little miss bad ass, I guess. What did you plan to do? Take us on all by yourself?"
"No." She said.
Another voice called out from the entrance to the bar.
"Sir, we've secured the perimeter. We can see lights on the top floor and hear music. Sounds like a party."
"And so, there is, Captain Rojas. This is my friend, Dr. Alexis Castle. I know her from the States. She says everyone else was worried us rebels would slaughter them and decided to face death totally drunk. Not a bad idea, in my view. Go up and reassure them."
"Si, patron." Captain Rojas walked away, followed by a dozen soldiers.
"That was Spanish. And so is his name." Alexis said.
"Something like peace has descended on Columbia, the country, not the university and they don't need so many soldiers anymore. So, Rojas works here."
"He's a mercenary?'
"Shall we say he likes to help people just like you do. He just does his thing in a different way. "
"What about the word "patron"?"
"When they released the Godfather in Mexico and some other Latin American countries, it was called El Patron. Sometimes he calls me jefe, chief in Spanish, or sir."
TBC