I have no idea how to paint horses, horse gear or armour.
But I needed to make "knight and his beloved lord" paintings that look like something I could have seen in a museum, but I didn't because there were none, so a boy must do what he can.
And, even though this artwork might look like it's an angsty goodbye, it's actually Hans feeling clingy with separation anxiety even if Henry's is about to travel not further than a nearby city where he knows he can get some real good wine to make his lordly bitch happy.
I did it.
Hansry brought something in me back to life.
I feel like I've been waiting for this ship for a VERY long time.
The original images are HUGE I hope Tumblr doesn't eat the quality.
Death, identity, and the call of one soul to another: Geto and Tojiโs awakenings
In Shibuya arc, Geto and Toji both return from the dead and from a loss of identity, because their connections with their loved ones transcend death: Geto is able to wake up to resist the brain invader because of Gojou, and Toji is able to wake up from being a puppet of destruction because of Megumi. Love between friends, the love of a parent for their child, all these tangled forms of affection tie souls together.
Geto and Toji had been the ones to walk away from Gojou and Megumi respectively. Yet, the person they walked away from is also the only person who is able to awaken their souls. Even when Geto thinks Gojou doesnโt need him, and Toji thinks Megumi will be better off without him, still Getoโs soul responds only to Gojou, and Toji only to his son.
These two moments in Shibuya arc affirm how no one truly exists alone. People recognize themselves through recognizing their connections with others; identity and our sense of self-identity are anchored in other people.
Through life and in death, who are the people through whom we see ourselves? Whose voice will call your name, and given the chance, whose voice will you want to hear?
An hour? Maybe two? Time flew in a ruined city where we groped our way through its almost deserted streets. Luckily, we had come across an abandoned shop in a ruined covered market. There wasn't much left, but enough so that Ghost and I could blend in with the population.. We had exchanged our uniforms and gowns for more casual civilian clothes. Ghost kept the bare essentials of his equipment, like his pistol, his knives and finally his bulletproof vest, all carefully camouflaged by a drab shirt and a coat. He gave up his mask in favour of a bistre turban, revealing only his eyes. I did the same, hiding my identity with a dark tan niqab and avoiding attracting attention by putting on a large frock of the same colour. To my surprise, he had entrusted me with his first aid kit and a torch he found on the fly. But although we were now attracting far less attention, we remained unfailingly vigilant.
I followed Ghost, wordlessly, as we stared at every corner, every rooftop, window and balcony, terrified of being targeted yet again in this hostile city where we inevitably stood out. A foreign humanitarian and a British soldier were not the most common things in Urzikstan despite our new accoutrements, and that's why Ghost focused on carefully avoiding the main avenues and populated streets. We stole enough confused and vindictive looks from the few inhabitants we met. The only problem was that this action plan slowed us down considerably. Most of the alleys were regularly blocked by building debris, abandoned cars, or old roadblocks if not dead ends. These setbacks forced us to take detours through buildings that were often empty of souls.
We rarely interacted. I understood most of his intentions and orders through his gestures. We kept as quiet as possible and tried to stay away from the main insurgent camps. Our secondary objective was still unknown to me, but in view of our rare stops to allow Ghost to consult the map, we were on the right track.
To enable me to reach an adjacent street, he helped me through the remains of a collapsed wall of a bombed-out building. But just like the previous street that had led us through the edifice, this one was also blocked. As soon as Ghost saw the bus gobbled up in the front of a hotel, he grumbled in his beard, and motioned for me to follow him. We skirted the walls of the old shopping street towards the bus and, after making sure there were no insurgents, he gave me a leg up, for the hundredth time that day. After checking the solidity of the panes I offered my hand to help Ghost, but as usual he declined my offer. He started to descend the other side, but immediately halted, staring at the horizon, and fumed.
I frowned, and turned to see the reason for his blasphemy, discovering an endless cavity, creating an impassable gap between us and the rest of the road. It was one of those cavities that bombing often dug in a karst city prone to titanic sinkholes that took whole buildings with them. An impassable chasm in its present state, bringing us back to a standstill.
"What are we doing?" I inquired.
He looked at me, ready to turn around.
"We're exposed, go back and fix the situati... Get down!"
I barely had time to grasp his command before he seized me and pushed me to the ground. Bullets whistled over my head and Ghost returned fire without delay. Some insurgents had spotted us further down the street from where we came. I took advantage of his cover to quickly find an exit, and my gaze fell on the open window of the huge hotel on our right. The bus led us directly there, and I crawled for my life, praying that no bullet would reach us. It would be a lie to claim that the case of a few rounds of AK-47s had become a habit, but when the first shots rang out, it was no longer fear that guided my instincts, but adrenaline. I acted much faster to escape the ankylosis of death.
I managed to get into the hotel as best I could, and swiftly turned to find with some relief that Ghost managed to follow me. He headed off and we made our way into the building's large, luxurious reception area, which had obviously been abandoned for quite some time. We didn't wish to check if we were being pursued and moved blindly towards the first floors, hoping to lose our potential pursuers. Thankfully, the hotel corridors were labyrinthine. And if we were unfortunate enough to run into an insurgent, then we could sneak around him. Or we could neutralise him concerning Ghostโฆ
After ensuring the efficiency of our retreat in this seemingly soulless hotel, we were able to take a short break, during which Ghost took stock. His plan was soon in place. From now on, our objective was to reach the street at the hotel's rear, then join the northwestern residential areas which were only a few kilometres away. It was certainly easy at first sight, but the adversity that awaited us would prove inexorably fatal. Without voicing my doubts aloud, Ghost, on the lookout for my impressions, pushed me forward like a cowardly childย who was taught to despise danger:ย It is nothing, what frightens you, it is only a shadow, only a risible nightmare, an irrational fear of a city that wants to stone you.ย How fucking ironic. But in the end, the hand that told me to move on, reassured my mind and my worries, better to overshadow this despair gripping my mind. In the end I approved of this plan. It was feasible, and would only take us a few hours.
He was a man of many resources. It killed me to admit that I was comforted by being at his side in such a situation. To obey him forcibly, but mostly to obey him reluctantly, without saying a word, had saved me more than once. He listened, taking in every sparse sound, he probed, closing and reopening his eyelids to sharpen his sight, he scented the air in jerks, looking for the slightest hint of an unwanted presence. A beast, whose movements reflected years of experience surviving in hostile environments.
"This way," Ghost warned me as we made our way up the stairs to the third floor.
In this dusty heap of ruins with the luxuries of bygone eras, we sought to find an exit that would allow us to leave the building from the back. However, the maze of corridors did not help our strained orientation and led us to take unconventional paths.
โIt's like The Shining," I mumbled, stalking Ghost.
"Never seen that flick," he replied, to my astonishment.
โBut it's a classic and a great one. It's probably one of my favourites.โ
โI've never liked horror films.โ
โSo you hate scary things? It must be excruciating for you to look in the mirror then. Every morning... seeing that face... Horrible.โ
โAnd you're not allergic to humour," he growled, far from being amused by my mockery. โNow shut up and follow me. We'll use the lift to reach the top floor. The stairs are blocked.โ
Ghost forced open one of the doors to the two lifts, allowing me to climb inside. An escape ladder was installed and I managed to reach the service hatch. Luckily, the neighbouring lift, which was blocked between the third and second floors, allowed us to access the fourth landing, whose doors were open. But it was still necessary to squeeze through the small concrete ledge that joins the two lifts separated by a grid.
"It's tight but it'll do..." I muttered sliding down the wall.
I then dropped down as I stood over the second lift, praying that it wouldn't give way under our weight. Our exit was high enough that I couldn't climb out on my own, and I waited for Ghost to join me before moving forward.
"You're not giving me a leg up?โ I asked seeing him analysing the doors.ย
โNo," he said, motioning me to the wall. โYour turn. I'll go up first and clear the floor.โย
โBut we're alone in the hotel. Besides, I'll never be able to lift you, no offense.โย
โNow you care about offending me? Just do what I say. Obey, dammit."
I moaned while positioning myself as best I could to pull him up. Nonsense. I was a twig compared to him, he was likely to dislocate my shoulder at the very least. Nevertheless, tall as a mountain, I only had to lift him a few inches to get him to the edge of the door. But reality reminded me how much my lucky star hated me. So I offered Ghost my last bit of strength to urge him on, the lift jerked with a deafening squeak.ย
It was an imminent fall. A few seconds perceived like minutes, which my regrets took advantage of to gnaw at me. The vivid thought of death was still forming, my gaze on the fleeing point of light above me became vague. But the important thing was not the fall, but the landing.
Breathless, a sharp pain crushed my shoulder and that was all I could feel in the suffocating darkness of the basement before the water came over me. Shaken by torpor, I finally managed to get to the surface. From there I could hear Ghost's worried calls, which I immediately silenced.
"I'm fine!"
I looked up at him and saw that I had fallen four floors. The water had saved me despite my landing against the lift now at the bottom of the murky water. I removed my niqab to ease my breathing.
"And you, you're okay? " I asked, seeing his head sticking out of the two portals.ย
At least he had reached the fourth floor.ย
"Thought I'd lost you. Stay put, I'm coming to you.โ
โNo!" I said immediately. โYou stay up there, I'll get to you.โ
I was trudging through the water, and was pleased to find that the lift door to the basement was open. Second surprise, the water level was certainly lower, and only reached me at the level of the pelvis. So here I was, alone, moving forward in the lower levels of the hotel.
I was gripped by the darkness. So thick and dense was it that I walked blindly, slowly, lest I should run into a wall. I had to use my torch, now. My soaked clothes, far from shining for their practicality, hindered my progress in this flooded basement with the strong putrid smell of mould and stagnant water. The ceiling tiles had collapsed in places, and some of the exits, obviously the easiest, were blocked by rubble. However, I managed to squeeze through the gap in one wall.
The silence was overwhelming. A terrifying heaviness interrupted by the agonising slap of water dripping from the pipes on the ceiling. Of course, I was leaving without information, without landmarks, completely at random. Trying, despite the obstacles, to find the few signs that led me to the laundry room and other hotel-related premises. And the further I went, the less the water held me back. Its level was dropping and that was a good sign.
Finally, at the end of an interminable corridor which stopped my exhausting wading, I entered what seemed to me to be the technical room, plunged in the half-light but fortunately emerged. Nevertheless, a sudden but no less frightening realisation struck me. The room was occupied. Weapons were stored here and there, crates full of ammunition stored alongside trunks whose contents I did not wish to know, all of Russian origin. Where had I landed?
I redoubled my vigilance, and continued to fumble through the maze of rooms. I managed to arrive at what appeared to be the laundry room, only to be interrupted by voices from the parallel corridor. I froze, horrified that they had heard me, and hurriedly turned off my torch and hid in a corner. I counted two men, insurgents, and thank God they avoided me, continuing on their way to the place I had just passed. I didn't know if there were any left and how long I could lurk here, but one thing was certain, I had to find the courage and perseverance to continue my journey. I had to find Ghost and tell him of my discovery.
I stayed down, as quiet as possible, and continued on my way, praying that it would be deserted. From the laundry room, I took the corridor criss-crossed by the two men. This led me to the restaurant's kitchens on the first floor. But on my route, another room caught my eye. It was dimly lit, and seemed to be a former meeting room, converted into an operations room by Al-Qatala.
I glanced down the rest of the corridor, but with a resigned sigh, I entered the currently empty room. Surely there must have been some crucial documents that will hopefully be of use to the forces fighting this organisation. In my work as a humanitarian, impartiality was indivisible, inalienable. But at the moment, I was no longer Dr (y/l/n), but (y/n), a woman found in spite of herself, in a city that wanted her dead. I put my impartiality in this conflict aside, and in spite of the risks involved, I collected all the relevant documents. Files, flash drives, which I accumulated in my pockets, or in my trousers. I would sort it out later, with Ghost. I didn't have the time.
After a few minutes of swiping at all the useful information, the thud of a metallic crash made me gasp with surprise. A little further down the corridor towards the technical room, the familiar voices of men resurfaced in the basement silence. My time was up. I rushed out of the room and hurried to the end of the corridor. The door was unlocked and I was able to enter a stairwell. Without thinking twice, I climbed the stairs two by two, before stopping abruptly. An elderly man was standing in front of me, completely caught off guard. And I don't know why, but my first instinct was to put my niqab back on.ย
"I... Please don't kill me...ย " I begged as I stepped back.
But my stomach dropped in terror as the basement door opened in turn. I was now cornered and probably doo...
"Come with me,ย " the old man suddenly urged.
His voice was reassuring. Far from being authoritarian, aggressive and gruff. No, it was warm and reassuring, which made me follow him. To offer him my trust in this situation with a drastic choice. We went upstairs and he used a key card to get us out. Another corridor opened up but the man went to the fourth door leading to the kitchen. He let me in first and closed the door behind us.
โI can't follow you,ย " he began. โBut I can hold them off. If you wish to leave the hotel, go to the reception room.ย โ
โWhy help me?ย โ
โYou saved my little girl. I owe you a life.ย "
So it was a debt. Inexplicably, my heart filled with gratitude at this strangely comforting reality. Overwhelmed by the look of thankfulness in his eyes, I could only nod briefly before leaving him, holding back so badly the flood of emotion that came to my eyes.
I concentrated my mind on his valuable information, but I still had to find the way. I was lost. I couldn't find a map or directions to this damn room. And more worryingly, there was no sign of Ghost. Was he still waiting for me on the fourth floor? Before reaching him, I wanted to make sure of the information from this debonair Caucasian grandpa, whom I didn't know the causes of his involvement in such a perfidious organisation as Al-Qatala, but who had given me more than anyone else so far.
I didn't want one of my plans to go wrong again. Mercifully, this famous reception room appeared at the end of a corridor, with two large doors that left no doubt. I entered it and without thinking hurried to the other exit. This one was blocked. I swore, and withdrew to the centre to examine the room better, hoping to find a way to reach the upper floor.ย
In my investigation, probing this huge hall, open on two levels, I noticed the balustrades of the upper floor, which framed the room. These led to another exit, probably the bar. But I still had to be able to reach it. As I backed up without paying attention, I accidentally hit one of the champagne bucket holders which shattered with a bang. I cursed with a scream and winced, hoping I hadn't alerted anyone. Constantly on the lookout, the slightest tumult aroused in me an uncontrollable surprise mixed with fear.ย
"(y/n)?"
It was a faint call from the second floor. A faraway call, unexpected, but one that I grabbed without delay, praying that it wasn't my imagination.ย
"Ghost? I'm here!"
He appeared in the doorway, checking every corner of the room as he always did.
"You're well? Wait here, I'll find a way to get you upstairs."
I nodded and he disappeared again. I wasted no time in starting my first idea, which was to move the tables to the stage. Stacking them, if they were not too heavy, would make an impromptu ladder. The sooner we left this hotel, the sooner we would leave Basat. Ghost was there too, taking a weight off my shoulders. And in the end, my plan to convert the tables into a ladder wasn't so bad. I had a hell of a time moving them onto the platform and stacking them, but I managed to climb them and lift myself onto the catwalk.ย
"Ghost?โ I called as I walked towards the north door.
The overwhelming silence greeted me. I walked through the door, worried. He had been gone a long time. Much too long. And yet my mindless worries were confirmed by the crack of a gun followed by the clatter of a struggle. I rushed to the room where the commotion was coming from. I opened the door, and came upon two stocky men, enemies assaulting Ghost, who had been thrown into a pool of water. A wave of panic threw me onto a rifle lying in the blood puddle of an inert insurgent. The assailants had not noticed me, and without reasoning, my gun was aimed at the man trying to drown Simon who was struggling.
Trembling with emotion, I struggled to reason my mind racing at a thousand miles an hour. My voice was tense as I ordered the man to let him go. I didn't want it to come to this. God, I didn't want it to come to this... But the insurgent didn't listen to me. He scoffed, and put even more of his weight on Simon, whose agitation to get out of his grip was getting weaker... Much too weak. I summoned him one last time, out of sheer desperation, but deaf to my agitated pleadings, he pushed me into my last entrenchments. I was startled by the blast, and the recoil of the weapon sent me reeling.
Completely dazed, I didn't know if my shot hit its target. But one thing was certain, the second assailant was able to move, and I hardly had time to aim at him before he threw himself at me. Two furious wrists seized me and a frightful struggle began. We were rolling around, knocking over furniture, hitting the walls. I was struggling like a poor fool, preventing him from getting my only weapon. It was a fight to the death in which our breaths became short and noisy, we covered ourselves with blood and sweat... Only, the difference in strength was a fatal reality, and despite my grip on the assault weapon, I saw its barrel coming dangerously close to my face. The trigger readied to be pulled.
There was no way I was going to die here. To die by the hands of these people whom I could hardly consider as human as their visceral hatred made them monstrous. Without any lucidity, just the instinct of survival, I pushed him away one last time, putting my last strength into it, in the hope of a miracle. Then I felt him slip under my weight. A scream and then the deafening bang of the gun tore through the bar.ย
My ears were whistling. I was lost in my bewildered, disoriented senses, my vision blurred red. I backed away, again driven by instinct, trying to get away from that abominable bloody carcass. My excruciatingly painful leg gave way.ย
"Simon?"
My feeble voice called him back another time, without response. My distraught gaze went to the miserable puddle. He lay there, inert.ย
No, no, no.
I rushed to get him out. Mechanically I checked his pulse, it was... It was there. Abnormal but there. I had a chance to reanimate him.
"Sโil te plait ne me laisse pasโฆย " I lamented, stripping him down to begin a heart massage.
Muttering useless implorations with each compression, nothing helped. Oh God please... He couldn't die now. He was an elite soldier. He had to survive any adversity. If I hadn't been such a fool... He... heโฆ
I then rushed to give him the kiss of life, but was quickly caught off guard when a sudden cough took hold of Simon. I felt an immense relief, and helped him up slowly, trying hard not to embrace him.
"Bloody hell... You see yourself?โ he slurred as his eyes fell on me.ย
โI... Shit," I said, trying to wipe the blood from my face, realising the horror of it all. โI didn't miss them.โ
Ghost let his gaze wander around the room, before pulling himself together. He picked up his weapon and adjusted his scarf.ย
"Why didn't you stay and wait like I told you?โ He reproached, brutally.
โHey, you're happy, no? If I hadn't, you'd be dead," I retorted, trying to stand up despite the pain shooting through my crash-wounded leg.
"I'm mostly glad you didn't shoot me," he spat.ย
"You're such an asshole!" I shouted. "Fuck, I-I... you know what? I have no strength left... Just get out of this place."
I let him go ahead, and followed him towards our salvation, my body and heart in pieces.
HELLO same anon from before, i just finished chapter six and WOW. this did not disappoint at all, the suspense surrounding how they will get home and how their relationship will change once they get back, i have so many thoughts!! i wont dump them all here because this ask will definitely end up being so insanely long, but please never stop writing! you are such a talented writer and i absolutely adore this series you have created :))
Thank you so much for this incredibly kind message! It means a lot to me and I'm glad to see that my story is appreciated! I've put the story down but hope to get back to it soon! And sorry for the late reply :(
hello! im loving the series so far, im about to read chapter six but I cannot wait to see how lucie is eventually going to find out she knows who ghost is ๐ซฃ๐ซฃ๐ซฃ
Oh thank you so much! I'm so glad to know that you like the story! It warms my heart to hear this kind of comment! :) You did well to have waited until now because chapter 6 will have some surprises for you! I hope you won't be disappointed and that you'll continue to enjoy the rest of the story <3
The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the creepy mask of the soldier bent over my body. Either I was alive or I was in hell and we had found each other. My hand pushed him away as I grumbled unmistakably bad words at him. I arose with difficulty and tried to order my upset mind. My headache, which had been plaguing me since the crash, had not gotten any better.ย
It was daylight. Perhaps it was nine o'clock in view of the sun? How long had we been stranded on this sandy shore? We had survived, and the unpleasant sensation of my cold, wet clothes clinging to my skin could attest to that. But were we far enough away from the city to avoid a possible hunt? I had no idea.
"Where are we?" I asked as I watched the man venture out to the cliff along the shore.ย
He didnโt answer. Was he snubbing me?ย
"Hey, I'm talking to you," I repeated, annoyed.ย
"In the centre. The flow brought us back to Basat's centre," he ranted.
I closed my eyes, keeping my composure despite the frustrating but mostly desperate situation.
"What are we going to do?" I continued, following him.ย
"Certainly not follow your plans."
"Excuse me?"
He was laughing at me. He was laughing at...ย Damn itย . Was he really laughing at the horror that happened a few hours ago? What a bastard. Of all the soldiers on this goddamn planet, I had been dumped with a real piece of shit.ย
"Forgive me, what did you just say?" I continued, in a stern, even biting voice.ย
"We don't have time for this," he growled. โLet's move on.โย
"No."
I stopped, determined to confront him.ย
"No?"
His tone was excruciatingly cold and dry, worse than a winter in the Siberian tundra. He turned slowly. Against the light, his massive, imposing form cast an intimidating shadow over me. Despite my racing heart, I kept my face, and instinctively crossed my arms.ย
"I won't follow you as long as..." I began, but words failed me. "I mean... Shit! I mean... You literally committed a war crime," I exclaimed, still unsure of my conclusions.ย
"I did what I had to," he reproved.ย
"Those people were civilians! A family!" I insisted, agitated.
The soldier approached. Threatening, shoulders hunched forward, his rigid posture showed his anger. An angry beast whose cause of irritation was my person. He was terribly frightening. God, if I wasn't so cold-blooded, I would have liquefied right there. He had already killed innocent people, so why not me?
But when we were only a few centimetres away from each other, and he bent slightly, putting himself at my level to warn me with his deep, hoarse voice, words I could not grasp, the dreadful realisation pierced me like a needle. While up to now, it had been impossible for me to properly detail his face, his eyes, due to the night's darkness, during daylight hours the situation was quite different. The sun fully revealed this gaze which had charmed me since the first moments I met it. Those large hazel eyes, so sad but so beautiful, in which I liked to lose myself on the rare occasions when they were offered to me, were indisputably his.
"Simon?"
This was probably unexpected for the man. Plunged into a sudden silence, he stepped back, hiding his eyes from me, whose emotions were indescribable to me. But this realisation, so obvious and yet so late, probably out of fear, preferring to play the fool rather than confront me with this unpleasant reality, disoriented me so much, that his feelings were the least of my worries. I still couldnโt believe it. I felt silly, stupid, in the grip of immediate amaurosis. And I hated it. Always, I preferred to hide in the lie, rather than face the unpalatable truth. I was such a coward.ย
But at this very moment, as my wounded eyes rested on Simon, I could only feel a deep sense of betrayal, which, I knew, was not relevant. His choices were his own, but why didn't he tell me? Why didn't he tell me about his military job? To be honest, I didnโt even know his last name. I didnโt know anything about him.
"I... I can't believe it's you."
I hated the idea that he could be the man with bloody hands standing in front of me. My remembrance of him... He was not the Simon who so kindly helped me that night, or the one with such poorly disguised concern and questionable humour. They were not the same person. He was not that killing machine, with a temper as black and dark as the night of horror we had just spent.ย
"Simon..." I began before being rudely interrupted.ย
"Call me Ghost here."
Even his voice... A much less pronounced Mancunian accent, and a much sharper, throaty, cavernous tone.ย
"Ghost?" I scoffed, however, defensively. "That's my dog's name. But believe me, you have nothing in common. He's much more adorable. You... you're... Forget it. I value my life.โย
"Just call me Ghost," he balked, as he started walking along the shoreline, which I finally noticed was actually a peninsula.
"Where are you going?" I exclaimed. "We haven't finished..."
"Let me tell you how it works," he snaps, turning around for the last time, intransigent. "We don't talk about what happened. Ever. In fact, we both avoid talking. We keep it quiet and efficient. And finally, you do what I tell you when I tell you. Is that understood?"
I looked at him, still incredulous and offended at such infantilization.ย ย
"Is that understood?" He said, when confronted with my silence.
"Yeah..." I mumbled, frustrated in my dignity.ย ย
"Say it again."
He enjoyed pushing me around like this, and was satisfied with seeing me forced to accept his decisions. Then I took a deep breath and blew out his cutting words that grated on my mouth.ย
"I follow your orders."ย
And so he ended the conversation. I hesitated to go with him, before finally accepting the idea that, without this guy, getting out of the city would become an insurmountable trek. A few metres ahead, I saw him disappear around the bend in the escarpment.ย
The bank was drifting inwards into one of the concavities formed by the shoreline, drawing a narrow V. I hurried to find him, doubting that he would ever think about waiting for me, and discovered him climbing a small waterfall, avoiding slipping on the seaweed strewn on the ground. An old sewer entrance blocked by bars awaits him at the top, and I winced in apprehension as I assumed Simon's future intentions.
I sighed once more, fatalistically, as the dirty sewage rushed into my shoes, already wet from my escapade in the river splitting Basat. I cringed in disgust as the squeaking of rats echoed in the duct we were walking through blindly.ย
"It smells like shit," I muttered as I brought up the rear.
"We're in a sewer," said Simonโฆ or Ghost, whatever.
"Your plan smells like shit," I rectified. " You really want to go through the sewers?"ย
"Not like we have choice."ย
"Yeah well, taking a little diversions to the riverbank and climbing three poor rocks was impossible," I mumbled.
The lack of light forced us to use Ghost's torch, which made the place all the more creepy. Just in front of me, he advanced, his shoulders contracted with anguish, the weapon ready to be drawn. He was just as reassured as I was. After all, how could we not be in the goddamn sewers where unidentified insects crawled on the brown walls eaten away by green algae. It was so dark, we were walking at a snail's pace in this sticky sea, huddled together.ย
We arrived at a crossroads. Completely worried by the place, seeing a sign indicating that contaminated water was a source of danger didnโt reassure me. And although I had a deep animosity towards Ghost, following him seemed to be the best solution to ensure my survival. I knew of the man's fearsome abilities but found it difficult to trust him.
"I really don't like this place," I whispered as we walked down the right-hand path.
Our way soon proved to be a dead end.
"It looks like there's a path ahead... Right there," I pointed, taking the lead.
"How perceptive," scoffed Ghost.
I prefered to say anything. So we took a tunnel with a raised platform, allowing us to quickly reach the other path from the previous intersection. This had the advantage of preventing us from wading back into the contaminated water. But we had to force ourselves deeper into these sewers thanks to the newly found path. The rats swimming on the surface and the drops of water dripping from the pipes above our heads and penetrating the collar of my coat made me shiver with disgust.
"We're gonna have to get wet," Ghost announced.
Indeed, the rest of the way continued on the other side of a large flooded area with a completely collapsed ceiling. It allowed the summer zenith to rush in, driving out the heavy, condensed air from the underground.
"Wow, how perceptive," I hissed back, falsely admiring.
He gave me a dark look that I ignored as I jumped off the platform. The foul smelling water was cold and murky. Nothing reassuring, but we managed to cross without a hitch and continued our adventure in the maze that was these sewers. After many redirections, many dead ends, and many back and forths, I admitted to being lost, unlike Ghost and his stubbornness. I continued to follow him with difficulty, but managed to keep his pace. Nevertheless, my inattention almost hit him, when he stopped without warning. He cursed and I quickly understood the source of his dismay, as soon as I noticed the huge hole in the concrete wall of the room we had landed in. It was a huge room, with two paths. One, straight on, leading to stairs, and the other to a checkpoint, and accessorily to the excavated gallery.
"What is it?" I questioned, unsure.ย
"Galleries dug by those fucking insurgents," Ghost growled, tightening his grip on his rifle. โFollow me, and without a word.โ
I let out a long, annoyed sigh before I complied. We took the stairs. They led us to a storeroom blocked by a fence with a door that was obviously blocked from the inside. Ghost pointed to what appeared to be a trap door and announced:
"Even if you're tall, you've got room to squeeze through," he asserted. โUnlock the door for me.โ
I arched an eyebrow, sceptical, as I scrutinised sickened, the air duct on the floor, obviously dirty and full of filth. But then did I really have a choice? We had to get out of these underground tunnels at all costs, avoiding the possible insurgents lurking there. We had to keep going, and obviously Ghost and his burly frame wouldnโt be able to sneak in anywhere.
"You mother never learned how to say please," I finally sighed, crouching down. "Open it."
He didnโt wait long and pulled the small rusty gate open with ease.ย
"Ew. That rat is huge," I said, referring to the rodent that had just emerged from the vent.
"Fucking sewer," he grumbled, abruptly letting go of the gate.
I slipped out the other side, ignoring the foul odours and filth blackening my poor unrecognisable coat. He waited by the entrance and watched me struggle to remove the trolley blocking him from opening the door.
"And...ย Voilร ย ," I finish, while opening the grill for him.
He walked in without a thank you, and searched the upper part of the room. I couldnโt resist being attracted by the papers scattered on the only metal table, located in a dark and remote corner of the room.
"It looks like a map... A map of the city," I informed him, trying to discern the legend, which Ghost immediately took away from me.
I raised my angry gaze at him, but too preoccupied with examining the map, he didn't even notice.ย
Lord, give me patience, for if you give me strength, I swear I will kill him...ย I murmured to myself as a prayer for calm. Keep your cool.
Ghost wordlessly examined the map, not giving me any observations as if my expertise was worth less than nothing, before putting it away in one of his many pockets and heading for the upper part of the storage room. And here we went again, for a long session of walking up and down these perennial vile galleries, in search of an exit that we no longer hoped for.
To my chagrin, we were forced to take a path full of macerated and putrid water. As we navigated through rusty barrels and filthy rats and insects, we inevitably came across the thing we feared most. At the corner of a corridor, an insurgent froze when he saw us. Looking straight into our eyes, this short moment was fatal as he collapsed to the ground, a knife between his eyes when he tried to grab his rifle hanging from his arm... Nevertheless, probably further down the dark underground, the voice of another rebel rose. They had seen us.ย
"Fuckโฆ Over here," the soldier grunted, urging me to run in a direction away from our attackers.
Running blindly, pursued by the deafening screams and roars of guns, was terrifying, agonising. But finally, by some miracle, my mad dash led me to a vast sewage room, whose particularity was its manhole cover leading to the outside. I didnโt hesitate to climb the rusty metal ladder. I knew that Ghost was following me closely. He held back our pursuers while I put my last adrenaline-fuelled strength into the metal plate. The plate struggled to come off its hinges but I managed to lift it, almost losing my balance. The hot sun dazzled me. I went out into the middle of a deserted street except for a few children playing with an old balloon that was about to crumble at any moment. They stopped, puzzled, when they saw me, and ran away immediately when Ghost appeared. He immediately closed the manhole without further ado as the blasts from insurgent guns ricocheted off it one last time.ย
He then led me towards a seemingly deserted ruined building.ย
I felt reborn. The warm but welcome air of this late morning caressed my blood-stained skin and could only invigorate me after such an eventful and terrifying night and morning. It seemed to be the same for him. We were exhausted, out of breath, struggling to put our minds back together. We were alive and it was a miracle.
I thought that my last moments in the sewers would be the last of my life. It was far too tense. But thanks to... Anyway, I was still here, breathing deeply in the zephyr, listening intently to the birds chirping innocently in a war zone emptied of its residents, and enduring the all too heavy breaths of my living companion in misery. And I must admit that in my eternal bad fortune, I had always been lucky enough to come out of it alive. Of course, with more or less serious injuries, post-traumatic stress disorder, behavioural disorders, paranoia, anxiety and other joyous things that would put my mental state to a severe test. But my heart was beating and that was good enough.
"I can't believe we're still alive," I babbled between breaths.
"For now."ย
"Show a little optimism for once in your life," I scolded.
"And you a little realism. We still have to get out oโ town."ย ย
"And do you have a plan for that?"ย ย
"Get to the city outskirts, then find a car."ย
I wiped my dry and dusty mouth with my sleeve. At this gesture, without asking him anything, Ghost took out his flask and handed it to me. I hesitated, arousing suspicion in me. The last thing I wanted from him was pity, and even more so if that pity disguised a desire to ease the tension between us. Nevertheless, I was dying of thirst, and to refuse out of pride would be suicide as well as foolish.ย
"Then we'll see what happens," I murmured, handing back the canteen after taking a few sips.ย
I was suffocating. My breathing was short, compressed. Every muscle in my bruised body hurt terribly.
I opened my eyes. My vision blurred, the first thing I made out were the smoked glasses and black balaklava of a marine. Standing with his gloved hands outstretched towards me, he tried to unbuckle me from my seat belt. I realised that I was suspended in mid-air, my hands and feet dangling. The helicopter had crashed, lying on its side.ย
My gaze became clearer and turned to Heller, who told the soldier to hurry up. Her blue irises considered me with concern, but also with nervousness as she scanned the world around us as if a threat were approaching. Just when the man unbuckled my belt, the door beside me, leading to the outside, slid open with a deafening noise, shattering the structure. As I collapsed to the ground, the soldier grabbed his gun as quickly as possible, but it was too late. Arabic shouted resound, followed by the thunderous blast of an assault rifle.
Completely stunned by fear but also by bewilderment, not even knowing if I had just been injured due to the adrenaline flowing through my veins, I cut off my breath barely having time to grasp the situation. The soldier's warm body collapsed on me. Only my eyes, fearful, dared to move. They turned to Heller, sprawled on the carcass's metal floor. Her face contorted in pain, and her eyes, still full of life, begged me for help. The dread ankylosis crept up on me archly. I stood still as his hand reached out to me with difficulty.
And the installed fear, this indescribable state, this deliberate refusal to die, to risk, to just face up to it, this fear in its rawest form of cowardice, pushed me to flee, to close my eyes as soon as an Urzik dropped into the helicopter and didnโt hesitate to finish Heller off.
He made sure to finish off the wounded.
I winced in ineffable fear, praying that he would think me dead. His rifle barrel turned towards the soldier slumped over my miserable person, and my stomach dropped. He prepared to shoot us definitively, but a voice echoed from outside. The Urzik resigned with a sigh, and preferred to climb back out, leaving me in the soulless carcass of the helicopter. None of the soldiers had survived, and a ghastly realisation hit me. I was the only survivor of the crash landing. Left alone, in a city that wanted me dead. Without help, without an ally.
I checked one last time that no insurgents would return to the helicopter, and pulled the marine's dead weight. My right knee throbbed me horribly, as did my head. But I didnโt have time to look at the diagnosis, and took it upon myself. If I could still walk, then nothing was wrong. The first thing I thought I should do was find a way to at least signal my presence to allies. The soldiers and the helicopter had radios, but I needed to know how to use them. I picked up the transmitter from the soldier who had untied me, and pressed the button that felt right, before articulating despite my dull, hoarse voice.
"This... This is Razor 3. We've crashed on Basat's eastern outskirts. Over."
But a deathly silence greeted my call. In despair, I repeated, again and again. Until I gave up, realising that it was no use.
"If anyone can hear me. I... I'm one of the hospital's hostages, Dr. (y/n) (y/l/n). I'm the last survivor. If you can hear me, please help me," I finished, full of disillusionment.
My torn gaze inadvertently felt on Heller, and though I knew the distressing answer, I knelt beside her in the vain attempt to discover her alive. No sign of pulse, no breathing. I closed her horribly empty blue eyes.ย I sighed painfully, inconsolable at the loss as my hand slipped into hers still warm. The one she held out to me while my cowardice ignored her. I discovered one thing, however, that disconcerted me. But I couldnโt pay any more attention. Outside, the world was in turmoil. Voices had come closer, and from the little Arabic I knew, I understood a few snippets. The insurgents were planning to loot the helicopter before burning it down.
I must leave immediately. I didnโt even have time to get the radio from the soldier, it would have taken me too long to undo it. As footsteps echoed above my head, I slipped under the frame of the structure. Actually, the sliding door that opened during our fall no longer exists, and the helicopter had crashed so that a thin space was left between the ground and the wall, hardly allowing me to slip through. I shuffled through the dirt and dust, making my way out. The tail section of the helicopter was resting against a fountain basin. The crash site, I assumed, was in one of Basat's squares a few hundred metres from the hospital. Sparks of glowing flames lay all around, the only light source with the rebel lamps.
The buildings surrounding the square rose in a reddish gloom. They were my only hope of retreat. But even then I still had to cover the few open metres between me and them. Before abandoning my hiding place, I ensured to be out of the insurgents's line of sight not looting the helicopter's carcass. Lady luck was with me. A group of men, I counted five, were sharing a cigarette not far from me, but none of them were facing in my direction. They seemed to be watching the area around the crash. Still, I could easily run towards the buildings without them spotting me, the night was my ally.ย
With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I finally left my den. I could still hear the laughter and sardonic discussions of men inside the helicopter and preferred not to pay attention. The truth was, I had no idea where I was going or what I was supposed to do. But one thing was certain, I must get out of here. I trotted about, praying that no one would spot me. My knee was horribly sore, and I suspected a sprain from my bad fall. Running so far was not an option for me, however, I had to revise this choice very quickly as I reached the road separating me from the buildings.ย
"One of them is running away!" Bellowed one of them.
"Shoot her!" Barked another.
I cursed and immediately accelerated when a valve ricochets to my right. Bullets whistled around me, raising dust mixed with that awful smoke smelling of burning. My face mortified at the realisation that no building was accessible to me. Without even thinking twice, I quickly opted for an alleyway while my pursuers followed me. My heart pounded in my ears as I tried in vain to outrun them. Everything hurt like hell.ย
Survive.
I had to survive. But what would be the price?ย
Tyres screeching and men shouting, without me being able to see them, made me panic all the more as my painting became more shorter and my running more hazardous. Suddenly I branched off into yet another alley, almost tripping over the rubble of a ruined building. I didnโt pay attention to my blind spots, and passed a long wall, part of which has collapsed, leaving a gaping hole overlooking the interior of the dwelling.ย
My arm was abruptly grabbed and a hand muffled the cry of surprise that escaped me. Carried away by a sudden panic, I didnโt think and struggled like a rabid woman, as he dragged me into the abandoned building. Trying to strike out and break free of this suffocating and terribly powerful hold. But a familiar voice, warm and conciliatory, told me to calm down. I loosened the grip on the arm that muzzles me, and calmed down, gently, as a 4x4 passed by us, its headlights illuminating the street adjacent to ours. If I had continued, they would inevitably have killed me.ย
He let me go and I immediately pulled away, struggling to realise who he really was. Breathless, I took a deep breath before turning around and confronting... the masked operator. Destabilized, I barely found my words while a flood of questions overwhelmed me.ย ย
"You... you're alive."
I realised, indeed, the crash victims didnโt include him.ย
"I got your call," he said.ย ย
"Why didn't you answer me?" I enquired immediately. "Were you able to contact help?"
"Slowly," he ordered, curt. "I got thrown out oโ the heli in the crash and the fall damaged my radio. I can't send any messages."
"Shit..." I mumbled. "So what should we do?"ย
"I planned to reach the crash site and eventually retrieve an intact radio to request an exfiltration."ย
"Impossible," I dissuaded. "The site is crawling with insurgents. Going alone would be suicide. Besides, they were going to destroy everything they couldn't loot."ย
"I thought so," he murmured, clearly thinking.ย
Far away, the rebels were still shouting. Their voices carried through the taciturn city immersed in this abysmal starless night. They were still looking for me. Nevertheless, they were distant enough not to worry the soldier too much, and I took the opportunity to get a better look at my surroundings. I didnโt recognise anything until I noticed the street sign next to ours. I had seen it before, in the file of a patient and her son who had been treated a few weeks ago. So their house was nearby, and probably they were there.ย
I turned to the man who was checking his charger, and told him my idea. Perhaps we could stay with this family while we find a solution in peace? Of course, he refused but I insisted, convinced that this woman would gladly help us. Besides, I could see no other way, and the voices of insurgents, tracking us, were getting closer. Our time was limited, and I persisted one last time with the man who resolved to follow me.
I only knew the address and had no idea about the building's appearance. I groped around in the darkness. My limping stride seemed heavy and uncertain compared to the military man's, much more confident and frighteningly inaudible.
Finally, I stopped in front of a house, shaken, cracked, but still standing. My reading of Arabic was still in its infancy, but I could largely recognise the family name inscribed on a small, dusty and almost indistinguishable plaque near the front door with its chipped and faded blue paint.ย
"It's here," I deduced, ready to knock on the door.ย
"And if they're with 'em?"
"I'm sure they're not. And anyway, we've no choice."
I took a deep breath, and knocked three times, hoping someone would hear. Nothing. I called out my patient's name, Hadiya, in a low but sufficiently loud voice, then introduced myself. The soldier behind me grew impatient after a few minutes. He became agitated and just as I was losing all expectation, on the verge of giving up, the door swung open with an unexpected creak.ย
"Why is that?" Asked a rough and gruff man.ย
"Mr. Hanif Nazir?" I answered, unsure of his identity.
"That's me, and you are?"ย
"I'm Dr (y/n) (y/l/n). I operated on your son a few weeks ago. I met your wife, Hadiya."
"Yes, I remember. And him?" He spat, suddenly putting his piercing amber eyes on the soldier. "Not a doctor, as far as I know."
"This man was in charge of escorting the last humanitarians out of the city but... we had a little setback. I'll be honest, Mr Nazir, we need help. A place where we can hide from Al-Qatala's men."
"Do you know what I risk by taking you in?"ย He said.ย "Death. My whole family will be killed.ย "
"Please, I beg you. No more than a few days. Time to find a way out of the city. You're our only chance."
Probably after much inner deliberation, and certainly out of mercy at the sight of my miserable person, Nazir accepted. I was ready to explode with relief as he opened his door, letting me into his modest home. The entrance led into a turquoise-toned living room, richly decorated with a velvet sofa, contrasting with the dilapidated and austere exterior of the building. From a corridor, a worried woman emerged, finishing dressing her khimar properly. Her face, lit by a faint dying candle, worried for a moment when she saw me, before closing up at the sight of my sidekick.ย
"What are you doing, Hanif?" She demanded.ย
"They're on the run, we'll hide them until we can get them out of town."
Far from being pleased, she didnโt protest and turned to me.
"I recognise you. You saved my sonโฆ I can never thank you enough," she admitted, sincerely. "But you must leave as soon as possible. Tomorrow morning."
I turned to the soldier, not knowing what to say. In a few hours, dawn will break over Basat, but will that give us time to make a plan to escape? I told him my concerns and he assuaged them.
"We'll be gone at dawn," he confirmed.
I immediately informed Hadiya. Satisfied by our decision, the woman led us through her house towards the room of her brother, who died a few years ago during a Russian offensive by that bastard Barkov.ย
"Your son is well?" I questioned, as she made sure of the room's complacency.
I raised my eyebrows, amazed by her cold but diametrically opposed character to the one I had confronted at our first meeting. Perhaps our unwanted and dangerous presence for her family made her anxious, and surely their late arrival didnโt help. She gave way to privacy, leaving us alone in the room. Without a word, the soldier settled on the armchair opposite the bed, on which I slumped without reflection, suddenly submerged by a vast fatigue that seemed irreducible. Four long days had passed without me getting a wink of sleep. I didnโt bother to undress from my gown or wash myself, my only goal being to sleep.ย ย
However, I turned to the soldier. On the chest of drawers beside him, two tallow candles burning in two silver-plated brass candlesticks, casting a little glow and large shadows stirred by the warm zephyr of the night on the room's saffron walls, illuminated his intimidating form.ย
"Aren't you going to rest?" I demanded, indicating the rest of the bed. "You know, I'm too old for embarrassment about sharing my bed with a stranger," I tried to joke, hearing a certain reaction from him as he emphasised the last word.
"I'm not tired," he pointed out.ย ย
Disappointed with his answer, I just shrugged nonchalantly, far too exhausted to even think about fighting him. I closed my eyes with my back to him, and immediately dozed off.
My sleep was rudely awakened. Panic gripped me as a hand shook me and a low voice told me to wake up. My heart, on the brink of rupture, calmed down once I faced the military man above my still-beautified form.ย
"What?" I grumbled, sitting up with a jaw-dropping yawn.
Through the window, the night was just ending.ย
"What time is it?"ย
"Five a.m. Follow me," he ordered me, without further explanation.
I had barely slept three hours. Seeing that I was not willing to move, he grabbed my arm and forced me off the bed.ย
"What are you doing?" I groaned.ย
"We need to move and fast. Rebels will be here soon," he snapped at me.
"Wait, what do you mean?" I stammered as I followed him across the room.
At the same time I saw the gaping hole between the bed legs and the chest of drawers. But what made my blood run cold was the mountain of firearms and other items overflowing. The soldier had flushed it out through a trap door, which itself was hidden by a Persian carpet. I didn't have time to ask him all the questions that arose in my head. He moved on, not caring if I was following him.ย
"And Hani..." I began.
"Not a problem now.โ
My eyebrows furrowed, taken aback. He emerged from the hallway into the living room, facing the entrance, still forcibly dragging me and still refusing to explain.ย
"What do you mโฆ"
But my words got stuck in my throat in horror. Just visible in the half-light of the house, lit only by a few rare candles, and barely visible in the kitchen doorway, Hadiya's arm was bathed in a pool of blood. At this brutal, appalling shock, I froze. Who... How and why? Such simple questions, whose obvious answers petrified me, made me sick with fear. This woman who was so kind, this mother who was so worried about her child, whose love was endless... Impossible.ย
"Hey!"
I was roused from my torment by the man's surly, impatient voice. He stood in front of me, blocking my view of the kitchen. I looked up at his masked face, barely visible.
"Either follow me without a word, or stay here and die," he hissed at me.
Shaken by his uncompromising words, I couldnโt find the strength to retort and resolved to comply. Even if it killed me inside to follow him, this man was my only chance not to leave Basat feet first. We stumbled our way to the entrance. Barely caring about the soldier and his manoeuvres, I just walked with him silently, my gaze lingering one last time in the kitchen as we left the house. My thoughts went to the child, but unable to imagine his sad fate, I immediately cast him out.ย
The streets were empty. Not a single living soul ventured out. I followed the soldier on the lookout. The slightest noise never escaped him. And so we quickly reached a dead end. A low wall about three metres high blocks our progress towards who-knows-where. He quickly looked for another way, while I saw behind us a bright light illuminating the buildings in our alley. The whirring of a 4x4 can be heard, and my stomach churned with apprehension. I heard my partner swear.
"Come on, I'll give you a leg up," he said, moving into position.
I didnโt balk. Despite my crippled body, I pulled myself together and somehow managed to get onto the ledge. Straddling the low wall, I went to offer him my help too, but a bright light suddenly shone on me. No sooner had I adapted to the strong light which devours us, than I realised the full extent of it. This was not just a 4x4, but a military Humvee with a machine gun turret. The soldier's reaction was unmistakable, and he didn't wait for me to succeed in pulling himself to my side in one jump. A ball valve hit his old spot and the man didn't think twice about taking me with him over the low wall. We firmly fell on a former restaurant terrace of a mall turned into a wasteland.ย
Knowing that our enemies would not be letting us go any time soon, we immediately set off again, still following the soldier who was increasingly pressing his pace. Presumably he was heading for the outskirts of the city. This seemed to me the most logical. But Basat was their city, and the terrain was unevenly in their favour. In our slog through the mall, we arrived at an old bar that had become unsanitary over the years. I couldnโt help but have a sudden craving for beer when I saw the bar's taps. God, I wanted to go home.ย
But I had to come to terms with it. And having to kill the two armed men lurking in the reception area of the small mall immediately brought me back to the harsh reality. My throat tightened with disapproval as the soldier slaughtered them in a frighteningly easy and silent manner. In the space of a few minutes, none were left.
"Right, go this way," he informed as he pulled the cleaning trolley blocking the only possible exit, the plexiglass entrance to the shop."
The large windows let us see one of the suspension arch bridges that connected two parts of the city intersected by a large river. I tried to open the door hastily, but it could only open halfway due to the chains that held it back. It was narrow but not enough to prevent us from squeezing through. But forgetting the Humvee for a minute was a big mistake. No sooner had it left the small, abandoned and partly destroyed mall, than it appeared at a street corner. The man commanded me to run towards the bridge, whose path traced itself. The beam of light shone on the runners, and we could suddenly feel and hear the bullets whizzing by us. If we got out of this in one piece, it would be a miracle.
I ran, ignoring my aching muscles screaming at me to slow down, ignoring the soldier right behind me, ignoring the vehicle barrage that suddenly appeared in front of me. Only two things mattered in my mind: this fucking Humvee and my life.
And may God be merciful when I stopped dead in my tracks, after sneaking up on an overturned bus that once blocked my path. A path that was no more. A huge ditch separated us from the rest of the bridge, now destroyed. And the Humvee was approaching. The man joined me, and I felt him decomposing. The water was rough and the height was dizzying. If we jumped, death would gather us, but if we stayed, it was also a guaranteed death. A Cornelian choice, to say the least.
"Shall we jump?" I asked, unsure, knowing how crazy and irrational my idea is.
"No, it's too high..."
I couldnโt suppress a gasp as the bus, completely overturned, was violently pushed by the Humvee wishing to make its way to us. A balanced car, now more of a wreck, fell into the turbulent river and I winced in horror. I hated being faced with such choices, but I couldnโt stay undecided any longer.
I let out a resigned sigh and took a few steps backwards to gainmomentum.
The order was clear. I obeyed, in the darkness of the storage room. The buttons on his trousers struggled to undo under my trembling hands. Mind in shambles, the only thing it was shouting at me, was survival. I heard him sigh with impatience, and without a word he slapped me, brutally, without mercy. A cry of surprise choked in my throat, my cheek stung and my loathsome eyes beaded with pain. My stomach churned with pain and I could hardly believe that all this was real. Each sensation was as vivid as the last. I wanted to go home.
"I..." I began to beseech, hoping to find some semblance of humanity in him.
"Shut up, and suck me," he ordered, reiterating his gesture of unprecedented violence, my mouth filled with hot, acrid blood.
At that moment, everything disappeared around me, to make way for the cold, dark, and horrifying reality of what was to come: it was between him and me. Only a voice, deep in my head, echoed in a distinct and unambiguous command.ย
Don't give him anything.
Outside the room, in the long, crumbling hospital corridor, where only death and despair roam, the world was in turmoil. My abductor was grumbling. Quickly, I raised my eyes to him, and saw that he was focused on the green door to our right. His gaze was averted from my feeble figure.
"You can't hear yourself think," he shouted, ignoring me.
And that little voice kept reverberating.
Don't give him anything.
It was dazzling.ย
Seeing an opening, I tried everything. I threw myself at him, ignoring the painful, almost paralysing fear that overwhelmed me.ย
Don't give him anything.
The first thing I grabbed was his rifle, which he threatened me with. Not far away, a blast shook the building, and gunshots rang out. Screams rose and my stomach churned in anguish.ย
Too surprised to get out of the way, my abductor took a few steps backwards and hit the wall. He struggled like hell, and I couldnโt get out of it. I prayed for a miracle. I prayed for help as my grip on the weapon weakened. It didnโt take long for him to regain the upper hand.
The next blow was fatal. The Al-Qatala man managed to push me back, and I violently collided with the shelves where various household products are stored, which fell on me. A scream of surprise but also pain escaped me, and I collapsed heavily on the ground. My haggard eyes rose and met the man's assault rifle barrel. My breath caught. I knew it was over. And as the anguish of death bubbled up in my veins full of regret and remorse, I spat out my last burning words of hatred in his language:
"You attack hospitals and kill caregivers while we sacrifice ourselves to save you. Beyond wanting to win a war, you only want the suffering of innocent people. And that, God will never forgive you."
He slammed me with a "shut up" and surely got ready to shoot me. My eyes didnโt leave him. But the door of the room suddenly opened, followed by two blazing shots that dazzled me. My ears twitched, and completely stunned by the sudden bangs, I felt the bile in my throat rise. A man spoke. It was blurred, but I could make out some English. His voice was strangely familiar, but I didn't pay too much attention to it.
"Here Bravo 0-7. Enemy neutralised in the west corridor. Found another hostage, the last one."ย
"Copy. Confirming enemy identity."
"It's not Saeed."
"Dammit, we missed him. Ghost, get back to the front desk, we're goin' to request an extraction now. We've got all hostages."
"Copy."
My heart fluttered in terror as his strong hands grabbed me. The terrorist's presence was so ingrained in my mind that I fought to keep from vomiting. But the soldier, British in sight of the Union Jack on his uniform, only helped me up with all the delicacy he could muster. He was tall and imposing, but what immediately jumped out at me was his strange skull mask, absolutely terrifying in such darkness.ย
"If you're looking for Hussain Al-Saeed, he left this morning," I muttered, coming to my senses. "The other hostages are fine?"
"They're fine."
So we were all alive. They had finally come to rescue us.ย
The soldier wasted no time. He gave me clear instructions which I tried to apply to the letter. As I discreetly followed him down the twilight corridor, I tried to wipe away as much as possible of the drying blood on my face. I grumbled. The anguish that always gripped me was indescribable. I managed to keep my hands from shaking, and the rest of my body, completely numb, barely held me upright. The soldier was escorting me to the front desk of the trauma department, where the hostage-taking had taken place. When did it get so bad?
The city had been bombed for several months, including hospitals. In reality, this was not surprising, it often led to the creation of clandestine and underground hospitals in the big cities. In Basat, there were seven, then five, then one, ours. All of them were targeted by the Russian bombing. For several weeks now, each department had lacked personnel and equipment. There was no more vascular surgeon, we only did amputations. The population no longer wished to come to the hospital knowing that it was a daily target. And due to my heroic desire and above all my idiocy, I stayed.
The extraction of the last remaining humanitarians was scheduled for 26 June. We were now on the 1st of July, and never managed to board our plane. The 25th of June was the death knell for Basat, which had fallen definitively into Al-Qatala's hands. The hospital was overrun by terrorist forces during the night. A real massacre followed. Everyone, women and children, civilians and soldiers, perished. The town was suffering from long periods of power failure, while the hospital's emergency generator was destroyed during a bombing. For days and nights the hospital had been without power, and I couldnโt imagine the carnage that would have followed without power to the equipment supporting the patients' lives.ย Myย patients.
The last remaining humanitarians, two British, one Dutch and one American, and myself were immediately taken prisoner by terrorists. Little Westerners, what better way to strike a blow at public opinion while flouting the Geneva agreements. I knew that their objective was political. Their aim was to publicise their position widely in conflict situations, either by demanding the release of their prisoners or by publishing political manifestos, in many cases with a guarantee that the hostages will be executed. And this was what kept us alive for the time being. Hostage rescue missions in such a disadvantaged area were a miracle, but the special forces had succeeded. Their discretion had saved us.
The closer we got to the front desk, the more I struggled to move forward, the hallway clogged with dust and barely lit. But a voice, sweet and feminine, called to me, and I thought I fell down with relief when hearing it.ย
"Doctor (y/l/n)! You're fine," exclaimed Heller Janssens, the young Dutch nurse who assisted me during my surgeries.
We went into the room and understood that one of the Al-Qatala men had committed suicide, in a vain attempt to take more victims with him. No deaths were reported at the time, only wounded already being examined by the only remaining humanitarian doctor, except myself, the British general practitioner, Andrew Ridgmont. He had set about stemming the femoral bleeding of an unconscious soldier, whose leg had been partly pulverised by the explosion. But my eyes fell on one of the terrorists, also blown up by the blast. A military man, also British, while the rest of the room was occupied by Marines, was busy giving him first aid, but my instinct told me that something was wrong.ย
Against all odds, I went to the Urzik's bedside to ease my doubts.
"What's wrong with him?" I asked as I knelt beside the soldier bandaging one of the wounded man's open wounds.
"Just unconscious with a few superficial wounds," he assured me, in his thick Scottish accent.ย
"Give me your lamp. Now," I insisted, seeing him hesitate.
He complied with my order, and I could check the man's closed eyes. The latter's pupils confirmed my suspicions.ย
"Janssens!" I called. "Get me a trephine, or in the worst case, a drill. I'll do a trepanning. He has a subdural haematoma which is causing intracranial hypertension."
"How do you know that?" the soldier inquired, completely distraught.
"He's in a state of decerebration with a blown pupil," I explained. "Do you have gloves and disinfectant to give me? And a nasal tube for intubation. I'll need to do some bagging when I start the trepanning."
The soldier complied and hurried to satisfy my request. As I struggled to prepare for the difficult tracheal intubation, a soldier confronted me about my decision to go to the Urzik's bedside instead of his crippled, bleeding comrade.ย
"You're the surgeon?" He questioned, irritated. "My friend is bleeding to death, shouldn't you help your colleague?"ย
"This man is bleeding from his brain. If I don't relieve the pressure, he won't have a chance to survive until he gets proper care," I informed him, still focused on my task.
He blasphemed, obviously displeased with my decision. But I didnโt give a damn.ย ย ย
"This soldier saved your life, but you'd rather treat that bastard terrorist than him?" He insisted, exasperated.
"Dr. Ridgmont is already working on controlling your friend's bleeding," I continued, keeping my patience despite my stretched limit. "He'll be able to hold on for a few more minutes, while this man may already be suffering from irreversible neurological damage. The more time I waste, the greater the risk that he dies."
However, no matter how clear my explanations, he didnโt understand, probably too blinded by the fear of losing a companion. And I understood him. The main problem, which I was aware of, was that I couldnโt save everyone. In my job, in such emergency situations with many seriously injured people, you try to save as many lives as possible. And that was the difficulty. You had to choose which patient to save in spite of another.
Nevertheless, the soldier's action that followed was not without reaction from me, even though my decision to ignore him. He pointed his rifle at me, and ordered to look after his friend at the detriment of this "vulgar terrorist". No time for respite was given to me then. Far from feeling frightened by it, having already been through hell, I stood up to face his gun and his frantic gaze.
"Are you threatening me?" I inquired calmly, despite the obviousness of the answer.
"Just follow my lead!" The soldier said to me, under the militaryโs protests, who was supporting me in the Urzik's rescue.
"And I refuse. Now, you'll put the gun down, right now. If I consider the care of this man, no matter his origin or his side, to be more important than this Marine's care, so be it," I growled, feeling my temper dissipate.ย
"Then you'll be treated as a supporter of Al-Qatala. You're a criminal."ย
"I am a humanitarian doctor! I owe you nothing. I am neutral, impartial and independent, and for God's sake, I am not helping any particular party in this fucking conflict! Now youโll let me do my job! Ok? And don't you ever come between me and my patient again! Don't you ever threaten me again! Is that clear?" I shouted, insisting on each word, offended by this insinuation.
"You don't..."
"That's enough!" A gruff voice suddenly interjected.
The man who had rescued me from my abuser, apparently the force's operator, came into the room. A deadly silence fell. Janssens reappeared, bringing me a drill, in defiance of a trephine.
"Bravo 2-6, let Dr. (y/l/n) do her job. You've gone too far. Get a grip on yourself." He warned, before turning to the rest of the team. "The extraction's goin' down in ten minutes. Once the wounded can be moved, we'll head to the hospital roof, where the heli will be waiting."
The soldier resigned himself to comply with his superior's orders and walked away, but not without giving me a nasty look. I ignored him and instead accepted the assistance of Janssens taking the initiative to intubate the Urzik, while the drill was being carefully prepared. I disinfected it thoroughly, before rapidly checking that the intubation was correctly performed. Heller, with my approval, started the bagging, while the military man assisting us shone the light on the patient's skull. I took a deep breath, and activated the drill. It was quick.ย
My heart swelled with satisfaction as a large amount of blood escaped from the hole I had just pierced. I looked up at Janssens who considered me with excitement and deep respect.
"You've done it," she enthused, wiping the sweat from her forehead where her blonde fringes stick.ย ย
"Nothing is won," I soothed her, knowing full well that care will have to be taken before long. "But it's out of my hands, we don't have enough time or resources."
I retired to my next patient, leaving Heller to supervise the man's condition. Dr. Ridgmont, a grizzled old man, at the time a medical officer in the British Army, happily welcomed me. He gave me a brief, concise debriefing on the unconscious soldier's condition. My analytical mind immediately turned to what was remaining of his left leg. Nothing more could be saved, his femur had burst, and I understood that if he survived, amputation would be inevitable. But even then, we needed to stem the unstoppable arterial haemorrhage. Blood gushed from his thigh. The femoral artery was severed and the application of a garrote was far too complicated, and surely ineffective. I immediately called Heller who left the Scottish soldier to deal with the Urzik.ย
"I need a urinary catheter, 14-gauge needle, catheter guide wire, an occlusion balloon and 20 cc of saline, now."
"What are you planning?" Ridgmont asked as I got up to help Heller find everything I needed.ย
"Since we don't have any, I'm going to make us a BCPIA, like a REBOA. Risky, but it's me, so we'll be fine."
After a few minutes of relentless searching, I was able to return to the soldier, and immediately proceed to perform the intra-aortic counterpulsation balloon under Ridgmont's assistance.ย
"This will obstruct the damaged artery and stop the bleeding," I continued to explain, inserting the catheter guide wire into the victim's peripheral artery.ย
"You've done well to stand up against this man," Ridgmont complimented me as I finally occluded the descending aorta, placing the balloon. "Sometimes they're just mindless brutes."
"Thanks," sneered the soldier beside his comrade, watching us in silence until now.
I smiled, amused at the conversation, but also with satisfaction at my successful management of the critical bleeding in the severe trauma patient.ย
"Release the pressure, Dr. Ridgmont."
Trusting me completely, he didnโt hesitate for a second to remove his bloody hands. The blood, having accumulated, gushed out for a moment, and then all ceased.ย
"My BCPIA succeeded!" I shouted, rising victoriously to let the soldiers retrieve the injured man.
They placed him on a stretcher next to the wounded Urzik, as my defiant gaze shifted to the marine who threatened me. His eyes fled from me without surprise, as the mission operator instructed the rest of his team to take us to the hospital roof, where the helicopters that will extract us to the military base. Heller sought my presence when we were each split into the three American rescue helicopters. The two wounded were placed together with Ridgmont and other soldiers in the first one, which had left in a hurry. The two other humanitarians separated from the two of us, and boarded the second helicopter.ย
"Thank you," Heller suddenly told me, as we waited for the third and final helicopter to land.
Only three soldiers remained, including the man in the skull mask, whose identity was still on the tip of my tongue. I wondered if he was not the soldier who helped me in Leicester, but also... No. That was impossible. I couldnโt get used to the idea thatย he wasย a soldier. I didnโt know much about him, but I was sure he was not in the military. It was obvious to me.
"Thanks for what?" I shouted under the thunderous sound of the propellers, beating at full speed and making our hair fly in the relatively warm air of this summer night.ย
"For... For deciding to take my place with that man. Did he... he... I hope..."
"Nothing happened to me, Heller," I reassured as I saw her struggle with these words and her emotions. "And no need to thank me. If I had done nothing, I would never forgive myself. You're my responsibility, Heller."
"You're incredibly resilient," she praised, clearly in admiration.
"You've got to be in this business, it's something you'll learn as you get older. You're still young. With your whole life ahead of you. What we've been through in the last few days is hard enough, no need to add more horror to it. Besides, your mother explicitly asked me to bring you back safe," I teased, elbowing her. "I'm much more afraid of her than these terrorists."
"Really?" She exclaimed, embarrassed. "Oh, forgive her! She's always too protective. I hope she didn't annoy you more."ย
"Absolutely not," I laughed, helping her on board.
Two seats along the wall were reserved for us. I sat between Heller and the masked man. The other three soldiers sat opposite us, and we could take off without any problems. It was impossible to communicate properly, such was the deafening sound of the helicopter. I reached into my blood-stained hospital gown for my mobile phone, hoping it might still have some battery. I was soon faced with disillusionment. I couldnโt contact my family, who were probably dead worried, for a long time.ย ย
As I put it in my pocket, a sudden turbulence made me lose it. As I grumbled, it slid away from the helicopter. I prepared to untie myself and retrieve it, but the masked soldier's arm cut me off in my tracks. He got up on his own, and headed for the sliding door where my phone was stuck. I offered him a grateful nod, and my eyes inadvertently landed on the man's advantageous back. Pleasantly surprised, I must have displayed a more than explicit expression, because I noticed Heller considering me with amusement and especially astonishment, in front of my gravelly behaviour. I cleared my throat with an embarrassed grin and turned my head away, ashamed to be caught in the act. I knew Heller's cheeky side, and I also knew that she wouldnโt hesitate to tease me as soon as we arrived.
As I turned back to the soldier who had kindly retrieved my phone, one of the pilots suddenly yelled into his radio:
"All stations, Razor 3 targeted by enemy missile. Flares!"ย
I barely had time to grasp the importance of these words, when through the windows of the helicopter, the darkened sky was illuminated by multiple flares. The aircraft's entire structure was violently shaken, and the door near which the masked soldier was standing opened abruptly, letting the freezing air rush violently into the helicopter. Despite this self-defence, we didnโt miss the anti-aircraft missile.ย
"Razor 3 going down! I repeat, we're going down!"ย
Completely caught off guard, the last thing I could grasp was Heller's scream, before I completely went dark.
A distressed sigh escaped me as I closed the lid of my pressure cooker, ready to simmer the stew inside. I wiped my hands as I walked out of my small kitchen, which opens onto my dining room adjoining my living room, and reached for my remote to turn off the television, where a continuous news channel was running, making my quiet flat a little more lively while I cooked.
Three weeks had passed since the series of attacks in London, which had rightly monopolised media attention. My family returned to France as soon as possible, after I refused to follow them. I couldnโt be the support they asked for and they couldnโt be mine. I had always preferred to walk on my own after such events, pretending like nothing happened, or with such detachment that it became distressing for others. ButI was like that, and to do otherwise would be far too difficult for me to handle and mentally impactful.ย
I slumped on my green Mario Bellini, contrasting with the Georgian architecture of my flat and the building itself, immersed in calm. Coming home was always one of the strangest moments. Going from absolute chaos, to the most familiar calm. For the past few days, I felt drained, physically and psychologically, but always with the sentiment of having done the best I could.
There was always a before and after anyway. And we had to accept it, get used to it. That was how life goes after all. Everyone lived with their ups and downs. And the beautiful and less beautiful things. But after such traumatic events, I needed, I felt, to keep a positive perspective. And to try to escape in vain from pessimism and the idea that the darkest part of the human being will come out at some time or other.ย
But today was my day off. These hospital shifts and series of surgeries had exhausted me. With no idea what to do, I decided to watch a boring movie and fall asleep to it, but my phone vibrated. Thinking a medical emergency at first, I was surprised to read an unknown number. I hesitated to answer, suspecting a scam.ย
"Hello?" I said, finally picking up the phone.ย
"Hello (y/n)?"
That accent, that voice...
I suddenly stood up on my couch, awakened by this call that I hadn't expected for a long time.
"Simon?" I asked, still unsure of who I was talking to. "Is that you?"
"Yes, it's me. It's been a long time."ย
"Long time? Is the remorse of being stood up on Halloween too much to bear?" I teased.
I heard him clear his throat, probably embarrassed.ย
"I'm kidding." I added. "I don't really care. How are you doing?"ย
"I guess that's more like my job to ask. I heard about London, are you okay?"ย
"Oh... Uh..." I started to stammer, taken aback.
He only called to see if I was alive after the attacks? Strange. Even after our first meeting a few months ago, he didn't even bother to contact me. And I couldnโt on my own, without his number.ย
"As much as it can be." I say, before hastily inquiring. "What about you ? I hope your family is fine and that no one close to you has been hurt or killed."
"Don't worry about that." He assured me.
He didn't pursue the conversation, and not knowing what to say, I asked the first thing that popped into my head.
"How is the weather in Manchester? Does it snow? We had our first snow yesterday in London."
I slapped myself in the face. Rain or shine. What kind of uninteresting conversation was this? I came across as a conversationless goof and made the exchange all the more uncomfortable.
"I'm not in Manchester right now. I'm in London for work."ย
"You're in London?" I exclaimed, pleasantly surprised. "Well, why don't we meet this afternoon? I know a lovely tearoom near the British Museum! They make delicious cakes and their teas are very good.โ
I felt my heart racing slightly, apprehensive about his refusal. But as I liked saying to myself : nothing ventured, nothing gained.ย
"Near the British Museum?"ย
"If that's too far for you, I can find a more convenient one. Where do you stay?"
"No, no. The museum suits me."
"So you accept?"ย
"Yes, but I'm only free after 4pm."
"Then we'll meet at 4.30 or 5pm in the tearoom! I'll send you the address by phone. See you later!"
"See you."
I hung up, more than delighted. My watch indicated 2pm, leaving me two solid hours to wash and get ready. Clearly, this was not a date. Or... maybe it was? But at the same time, did I really want to?ย
After William... This was so recent. And this whole story had made me really question myself. I was not ready and even less made to commit me in an umpteenth relationship. And all these failures in love had made me realise one thing: my work came first. With each break-up, the subject came up like a landslide: I didn't invest enough in the relationship, I didn't offer enough affection, and when I went out into the field, I barely made a call. But as the expression went: no news is good news, right?ย
More seriously, despite my desire to laugh, it was painful. Painful to know that no matter how hard I tried and how much I loved someone, that person will feel lonely and neglected enough to be forced to commit infidelity. But what could I do about it? My work meant everything to me. This was my life, my identity. It pushed me beyond my limits, stimulated me, and gave meaning to what I did. To lose him would be to lose a part of myself.ย
So no, I didn't want another relationship while I continued to mourn the last one, understanding that this problem which all my partners blamed me for, will never find a solution.ย
How I adored this sweet tearoom nestled between two London streets. It was tiny and cosy, run by a welcoming family. I had arrived first and so had taken the initiative to wait inside, booking a table for two of us. The best for my taste. Near the frosted window that let you see the few passers-by wrapped up in their coats and hats, under the light snowflakes getting lost in the city. I had settled into the low wicker chair, leaving the pretty Victorian sofa for Simon if he came. It was a bit crowded, and I regularly checked the entrance behind me, and my messages, hoping for a sign of life from him.ย
"(y/n)?"
I jumped at Simon's voice, not having heard him move quietly near me, too focused on my phone. My eyes went up to him. And my memories didn't fail me. Except for his stubble, better trimmed, he looked exactly the same as that night, contrary to me who, I hoped, was much more presentable. I pointed to the settee, which he accepted after taking off his coat and cap, letting his short brown hair breathe.ย ย
"Did you find it easy?" I asked, trying to get the conversation going as quickly as possible.
"Yes, and you're right. The place is sound, must-see their tea now."
"Oh! I promise they're excellent! I always drink their black smoked vanilla tea, it's just so good. That, along with their lemon cakes. Lemon pies are my favourite. But I also recommend their banoffee." I jabbered, handing him the card that our waiter came to bring us.
He finally took an orange-flavoured Ceylon black tea, without sweets, and we could give the waiter our order.
"You look fine." He finally said, after a few seconds of silence while I fidget with my napkin.
Perhaps he realised my slight embarrassment. At least, I took this chance to talk about the latest events in my life, without confiding all the woes that weighed on my heart either. I never talked about myself, or more precisely, about my feelings, about something so intimate. I myself found it hard sometimes to put my finger on what I felt. I struggled with vulnerability, and I just didnโt understand how people could feel so comfortable sharing their pain, their uncertainties, their problems with others. This was so personal. Nevertheless, Simon was clearly intrigued by the series of attacks in London, and what better way to share my experience with him.ย
"I'm actually a bit worried about my family." I confessed, glancing up at him. "I was with them in Leicester market the day of the attack and... they're deeply affected by it. Of course, I was advising them to go to a wartime psychologist, a normal psychologist would be useless, they've been through something that a normal French or British person can't experience. But I realise that it will be difficult for them to get past this event, and it kills me not to know and be able to help them as I would like."
"And you? Won't it be difficult to live with that?" He asked, clearly intrigued.
I let out a small sigh. The last thing I wanted was to come across as insensitive or mentally deranged. I needed to find the right words, and not speak without thinking as I was so good at doing.ย
"I've been to war zones before, where I've been confronted with difficult things. The London attacks have... surprisingly not affected me in the way I thought they would. I don't have nightmares, I don't have post-traumatic stress disorder. But it could have."
"It's the kind o'thing you can't anticipate, after all." He added. "Ever been to a war zone?"ย
"I'm a humanitarian doctor." I informed him, just as our orders arrived.
I thanked the waiter before continuing.
"I worked in the Sahel and Afghanistan with the Red Cross. Then I went to other countries, in short-term missions, especially during natural disasters."ย
"And now?"
"Now I'm taking a break for a year. I'm a trauma surgeon at the St. Thomas Hospital. In spring, I'll go to Urzikstan, for six months. At one of Basat's hospitals."
"The second largest city after Sakhra." He noted.ย
"Hmm..." I approved, pouring myself a cup of tea. "You know your geography well.โ
"And isn't hard? Humanitarian doctor. Going from the comfort of St. Thomas to a Basat hospital."
"Of course, it's always a bit of a shock and takes time to adjust. But humanitarian medicine is such an exciting profession that requires so much commitment. Once you taste the world of humanitarianism, it's pretty hard to return to a quieter life. So this tea?" I queried as he dipped his lips into his cup.
He nodded with contentment to my great pleasure. A little more talkative than when we first met, he was interested in my job, then our conversation drifted to my life. I invited him to taste my delicious lemon pie, but he refused, claiming not to have a sweet tooth. In spite of this tรชte-ร -tรชte which presents quite well, of the few jokes he was slipping here and there, a typically British humour which made me roar with laughter, something bothered me. In his behaviour, his look.ย
"You know, if I ever bother you, just tell me and... we'll stop now. I don't want you to feel obligated, or to force yourself out of pity." I suddenly declared without warning.
I took him visibly by surprise at his astonished expression. Perplexed, he swallowed his steaming sip of tea as best he could and immediately asked.ย
"Well, I'm enjoying myself. What makes you think not?"
Now it was my turn to feel flabbergasted, but mostly stupid. It had always been hard for me to grasp people, and more importantly to understand them by their body language. That was partly why I had always had a deep respect for these charlatan mediums, who knew how to read non-verbal language well, passing off this cold reading as clairvoyance.ย
Oh God, how I lacked this, as at that precise moment when I misinterpreted Simon's behaviour, which was clear after all.
"Uh... ugh... For nothing. Never mind." I stammered before I managed to make up for it. "I just felt like I'd forced your hand on this meeting, and didn't want to ruin your day on top of that."
"Your company is more pleasant to me than mine." He joked. "Don't worry."
"You're harsh with yourself. You're a man of few words but of pleasant company." I bugged him. "I swear."ย
"I get that a lot."
"Of what? That you're pleasant company?
"Hell, no. That I'm a man o' few words."
I laughed heartily and we continued joking until we finished our drinks. I insisted on paying, to his displeasure, but clearly I was much more stubborn than him. I had my way with him, and he proposed to take me home. As a gesture of gratitude, he said. I accepted without hesitation.
The first thing that greeted us as soon as we left the small tearoom was a glacial breeze winding through the city streets, slowly covered by a thin layer of snow. With a contented sigh, I completely closed my long vicuna Harlan coat, in an attempt to prevent the sudden wind from sneaking through the few openings my warm outfit could leave.
I then looked up at Simon, to see him wrapping his blushing face in the thick grey scarf he was wearing, leaving almost no skin exposed. The poor guy seemed to be enduring these winter temperatures rather badly. I let out an amused chuckle, causing him to tilt his head in my direction.
"What's so funny?" He queried in a gruff voice, muffled by the thick layer of wool covering his mouth.
"Nothing, nothing..." I reassured him as I set off.
In spite of the wintery temperatures, we preferred to walk all the way. It was a crepuscular promenade in the snowy alleys of London, still illuminated by Christmas decorations, despite the new year having started a few days ago. The two of us strolled peacefully through the quiet streets, and I had no hesitation in enlivening our conversation with anecdotes that are as far-fetched and comical as each other. My cheerful voice rose in this night as dark as ebony, shamelessly disturbing the lull of the district in which we were walking.
"Yer wot?" He exclaimed. "Did you really put a fucking whoopee in the confessional?" Simon scoffed.ย
"But I was sick of it! My parents forced me to attend catechism even if I didn't want to!" I protested, faced with these events perceived as real injustices in my childhood. "After a while, my rebellious side got the better of me, and too bad if I would never be at one with God again according to my parish priest or my family." I sneered.
"I vaguely remember my childhood, but in my family, it was rather as one with whisky."
I tried to hold back my inappropriate laughter, but the strange sound that came out of my mouth didnโt go unheard.
"Sorry, I shouldn't laugh about it, it sounds awful." I said, still chuckling. "My grandpa was also more at one with wine than God."
Without further ado, I took one of my usual paths. It was a pleasant, seldom used alley. Simon began to reflect on the umpteenth conversation about a misadventure experienced during his adolescence. But he was immediately interrupted by an unexpected and disconcerting collision, shaking the back of his head.ย
"Bloody fu..."
He froze, probably feeling the instant afterwards, a cold, disturbing fluid flowing down his neck, inevitably penetrating his coat. He let out a disgusted grunt as he tried in vain to prevent the snow from doing more damage. It didnโt take a genius to figure out who caused this sudden snowball attack. My contagious laughter as always shaking the serenity of the place was a perfect clue to unmask the culprit. He turned to me, who contemplated him mischievously. Although far from irritated, he was clearly baffled by my juvenile action.
"Are you serious?" He declared, bewildered as my hilarity intensified, giving him a clear answer.
I bent down, gathering enough snow in my two gloved hands, and formed a new ball which I threw with no hesitation. But this time prepared, he easily dodged it. He ran to hide behind a parked car.
"You know that's a war declaration you just made?" He exclaimed as I giggled.
"And I'm willing to feed you some snow, Brit!"
He took the opportunity to create a snowball and immediately to throw it in my direction. Far from being as skilful as him, I barely avoided it, but almost tumbled to the ground. Nevertheless, I managed to regain my balance. This moment of distraction earned me a second snowball, in the face this time. However, a satisfied smile appeared on my lips when I saw that he was playing the game, despite his apparent seriousness. I immediately resumed our fierce bloody fight which ended in a bitter defeat on my part. But I accepted it in good faith. I managed to touch him and to push snow into the collar of his jumper, and that was priceless.ย
"Are we almost there?" Simon asked, after we started our way again.
And I could only understand his impatience. After our childish interlude, the snow had covered my poor coat so well that its once beige colour was barely noticeable, and my scarf had just frozen solid. I preferred not to mention the clothes under my coat, as they were both soaked and frozen. A very bad combination. The same was probably true for Simon.
"Just two streets awayโ, I assured him.
"You live in Mayfair?" He wondered, and rightly so.ย
"Yeah... But the flat belonged to my great grandfather, and I took it over when I moved to London for William a few years ago. I know, it still sounds very bombastic, and I hate that, considering that I have no credit for acquiring it."
"Don't need to justify yourself." He reassured me, and I thanked him for that.
We soon arrived at the door of my building. And with all my gratitude for this most pleasant day and afternoon, I offered him a warm goodbye while an idea arose in my mind. But I still had to summon up the courage to do it.ย
"Wait, Simon!" I shouted abruptly as I stepped outside, greeted by a gust of wind that made my scarf flutter.
He turned towards me, to see myself running after my goddamn scarf spinning away from him. It fell into the gully next to the road, and in this double misfortune, I slipped on an icy surface, falling firmly to the pavement. I hissed as I felt pain shoot through my coxal bone.ย
"You're ok?" Simon worried, hurrying to my side.
He picked up my soaked scarf, and helped me up.ย
"More scared than hurt," I informed him. "Shit, I just wanted to ask you for dinner with me. I've prepared a bit too much daube, which I can accompany with mashed squash and an excellentย Chรขteauneuf-du-Papeย of 2005โฆ" I drift in a whisper.ย ย ย
"And in English? How would that sound?" He scoffed, walking me back to the entrance of the building.ย
"How about a nice French dish with marinated beef and fine wine?"ย
"I thought you're a terrible cook."
"Well, I've got a reputation to uphold as a French woman. I'm not a great head chef, but I have some basics."
I opened the door, then turned to him. He seemed conflicted about this last-minute offer.ย
"Take it or leave it, Simon. But know that you'll never taste a better daube than this. It's an ancestral recipe."ย ย
"You know how to sell it, but I decline. I'm busy tonight." He admitted.
I puckered my lips in a resigned smile, wishing to disguise my disappointment. But I accepted his choice, and let him go with a final goodbye. My building door closed behind me, bringing an end to the most delightful day I had lived in weeks. I started to walk up the wooden staircase, my flat being only on the first floor, but three knocks against the door resonated in the hallway and stopped me. I turned towards the entrance and recognised the large and high figure of Simon. I hurriedly opened the door for him.ย
"You forgot something?"ย
"Even if I've always preferred whisky, I felt a good wine from time to time seems fit." He confessed. "Un Chรขteauneuf-du-Pape." He tried to repeat in his adorable English accent.
My eyes immediately sparkled, understanding what he meant. I willingly let him into the hall, and didnโt hesitate to tease him about his changeable, fickle persona, versatile in his opinions or views.
"I didn't know you were such a weathervane, but it's a great pleasure Simon. Always."
I loved the month of December. Besides the fact that my birthday came at its beginning, the festivities surrounding the end of the year had always had a special place in my heart. They were the perfect opportunity for me to joyfully reunite with my loving family over a warm, festive meal, prepared with love by my father. To return home to the Cรดte d'Azur, when we were not organising a week-long trip to one of the beautiful European capitals. I loved to decorate our house, and to walk around late at night, to see a thousand and one bright lights flashing in its sleeping corridors. Ever since I was a child, they lulled me with nostalgia, like a nightlight, passing through the gap in my door, reminding me that soon Santa Claus will arrive with a multitude of gifts for me.ย
I had always liked to let my little brother have the privilege of putting the star on top of our carefully and overly richly decorated Christmas tree. Now this little joy was left to my little nephew with his sparkling eyes, which made me all the happier. And what a joy it was to be able to admire the grateful looks on his family's faces when the presents were distributed, despite the innocent conversations and heated debates of New Year's Eve, but which provided all the comforting entertainment. And I especially loved Christmas, where the whole family would gather, together, to the sweet music of Crooners so loved by my mother. The children would have fun and the old folks would doze by the crackling fireplace, with glasses of mulled wine in hand. And I talked to my cousins, my aunts and uncles, whom I had not seen since last year. Christmas was always a magical holiday for me.ย
And this year, I had the honour of celebrating it in my spacious London flat. On this occasion, I could only welcome my close family, my parents, my little brother and his wife and son. I regretted not being able to invite more people, but my mother was so excited about returning to London that I couldn't refuse her. And how could I not understand her? Christmas in London was simply magical. Lit up on all sides, the glittering garlands and the childlike windows of the shops were such that it was incredible to walk around as early as November, making us momentarily forget the disastrous weather before the first snows.ย
But one of my favourite things to do was probably the inevitable Christmas markets, so typical of Europe. My flat nearby, the one in Leicester, in central London, was perfect for a late afternoon, after a family day wandering through the bright city streets. It was small and simple, but it was lovely to walk around to the sound of Christmas carols and the smell of cinnamon and chestnuts roasting on a wood fire.
"Oh look, (y/n)!" My mother suddenly interjected, pointing to a chalet selling handmade decorative ceramics. "Don't these little pots remind you of what William used to do? What a shame you had to leave each other! I was already thinking of planning your wedding, you'll end up an old maid if you go on like this, my (y/n)." She rambled innocently.
I rolled my eyes, suddenly feeling my heart clench, stung to the core by this unpleasant remark that suddenly turned this pleasant outing bittersweet. But I couldnโt even blame her. I had been very evasive about the end of my relationship with William, omitting his infidelity, not wanting to dwell on it. My mother was never at a loss for words, and although she was not trying to hurt me in any way, it was done.
"Mom, leave her alone with this stuff." My brother growled, trying to keep his six-year-old son Gabriel close.
"Don't make me feel like the bad Claudel! I'm saying this for her own good ! You already have your little family, while she is struggling to keep a man in her life. I don't want her to end up alone on her deathbed."
"I still have time to find someone!" I objected, immediately.
"Yes, but your biological clock is ticking, and if you want children, it's now or never."
I pinched my nose bridge, despairing at the turn of this conversation I have had, again and again, with her. France (y/l/n), as loving and caring as she might be, was of the old school and it was unbelievable to her that a woman, in 2018, would not have motherhood as her ultimate goal.
"For God's sake, Mom!" I exasperated myself. "How many times must I tell you that I don't want a child ! Man or not in my life, my opinion will remain unchanged."
"Well, ladies." Appeased my father, always very calm and diplomatic like his son, and contrary to his wife and daughter. "Calm down, or you'll spoil this nice moment for both of us. To think that we had almost gone a day without a fight..."
I saw my mother sigh and mutter to herself:
"I had hoped that you would change your mind when you grew up..."
I preferred not to raise my voice, and instead focus on Gabriel, who had just spotted a puppet stand further back in the crowd. This kid had excellent eyes. Nevertheless, the opinion of the whole family was rather on the leather goods chalet in spite of him. He started to rant but I took the lead before he had a fit.
"What if I took Gabriel there?" I asked, pointing to the end of the aisle. "There are toy stands, he'd be more interested in that than in bags. And besides, today is his day, right?" I finished by giving him a little wink to which he offered a toothless smile.
My brother's wife, Sarah, hesitated, but Claudel took the lead and, placing blind trust in me, agreed to entrust me with their child. It was not the first time, and certainly not the last time, that I kept him. Gabriel, delighted by this compromise and obviously adoring his incredible auntie, grabbed my hand and dragged me with him through the crowd, even before I could arrange a meeting place with the rest of my family if we got lost.
"Take easy Gabi." I intimated.
He listened and slowed down. We soon reached the park's outskirts, where his paradise began. A miniature train ran on an adorable little model, captivating adults and children alike as it was so full of detail. The man presenting, quickly invited Gabriel to sit in the front, to his great delight. I smiled at him, touched to see so much happiness and wonder in him. His childlike innocence had always warmed my heart.
Suddenly, I heard the screeching of tyres, an abnormal sound in this park and its surroundings which were reserved for walkers. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a white van coming from one of Leicester's star-shaped streets, near the buildings. It stopped suddenly, not far from us. Its sliding door opened and two men got out. Despite the few stalls between us, I caught a glimpse of one of them, and my blood ran cold. Without thinking, I grabbed Gabriel by the arm and pulled him closer to me as the first panicked cries started to sound. And as quickly as possible, I threw the child to the ground, crushed him with my weight to protect from the violent deflagration and its shards, which followed the Persian scream of one of the men.
Time no longer existed.
Shaken by the shock of the blast, my ears rang, and my disoriented senses struggled to clear. Muffled screams rose up around me, and suddenly they were extinguished by the agonising noise of a machine gun.ย
Shit.
I couldnโt believe it. I was stunned. My brain was spinning at a hundred miles an hour. It didnโt want to accept the mess it was in, while I didn't dare move, trying to protect my nephew with my body. A second explosion waited, further away, and the cry in Arabic this time, which I partially understood, anchored me in this terrorising reality:ย "You killed our brothers in Urzikstan, you will pay".
I had to find a better shelter if I didn't want to die from a bullet. Beyond the fear and panic, it was the survival instinct that seized me. I looked up, and had to face the general panic that had taken over the place. People like me had gone down, others had fallen, perhaps dead. People were trampling each other, jostling for survival, trying to find a way out of this hell. The first movements of the crowd could be fatal if we didnโt get up now.ย
Seeing no armed men, and hoping that they had no means of posting any snipers in the surrounding buildings, I stood up, letting Gabriel get out of my grip. I quickly examined him, and fortunately no physical damage had been done to him. Completely frozen by fear, I had to drag him with me through the chalets and the park trees, ordering him to stay crouched, with his head as low as possible. We had to find the rest of our family.
We continued on our way to the part of the park where we last left them, and, thank God, on the opposite side from the two attacks. Nevertheless, more assault rifle fire ripped through the square, it was far away but too close for me. More screams followed, then everything seemed to stop. Only the familiar moans and groans of the wounded pierced the heavy silence. The loudspeakers themselves had fallen silent, and I believed for a moment that the remaining gunmen would stop. But another round of gunfire, which surprised me, made me realise the contrary.ย
Gabriel's sobs made me stop. I turned to him, and his terrified, tear-wet face tore at my heart. His breathing was heavy, jerky, his fragile little body trembling. Panic had obviously overwhelmed him.
"Hey, hey..." I whispered, as we stopped behind a stand, after making sure there were no enemies around. "It's okay, as long as you stay with me, everything will be fine." I was comforted.
"I want mummy." He gasped.
"We're going to find her, but for that, you have to be brave and follow me, okay?"
"I don't want the men hurt us..."
"They won't hurt us, as long as I'm here. Are you forgetting who I am or what?" I tried to joke despite my apprehension. "I can heal all the hurts in the world."
He nodded his brown head gently, and I took his hand. Even with the feeble resistance Gabriel put up against me, we managed to slip through to the leather goods stand without difficulty. The gunfire was still raining down on Leicester. They would arrive, charge, and a new slave would leave. These reload times were deafening lulls as the cries and complaints of victims rose up. I dared not show the feelings of great anguish and fear that gripped me when I perceived in the distance, one of the assaulters finishing off a poor woman begging for her life. Other innocent people lay on the ground, a heap of inert corpses, whose true significance I couldnโt realise.
Finally, as we passed a snack stand, my father's limpid but no less terrified voice called out to me. I turned to it, and a wave of salvation washed over me when I saw my family in one piece, crouched inside a stand whose manager had disappeared. Gabriel and I ran to them, and the child jumped into his parents' arms in tears.ย
But the arrival of a second truck cut short our most rรฉunion. It was black, without insignia, and at first I thought it was another attack. However, what seemed to me to be special forces got out. From their uniforms and equipment, I understood that they were on our side, but I also knew that a real battlefield was about to be set up. And with that came collateral damage. I turned to my parents. My determined gaze met that of my mother, who immediately realised my intentions.
"(y/n), no. No, not here, not with us. This is not your job." She started to dissuade me.
But I was stubborn, and no matter how much she pleaded, my duty came first.
"You will stay here." I ordered, leaving my purse and my long woolen coat with them so that I could move freely. "And if you see that the combat zone is getting closer, even if only a few metres, leave to take refuge in the buildings over there. And most importantly, always keep your head down. A headshot is unforgiving."
"Where are you going?" Sarah asked, hugging her child tightly as if her life depended on it.
"My job. There are too many wounded who need emergency treatment right now."
Despite their reluctance to let me go, I left them, trying to find the resolution required to accomplish my work. A hard phase of emotional acceptance loomed before me, I knew it, and accepting it was a strength. Accepting it meant projecting oneself, understanding how to save a maximum of lives. Faced with such a large number of victims, and without a medical aid object, it was impossible to practise medicine. I had to extract the victims and send them downstream to where the special forces and, later, the specialised rescue services were. Accepting it meant immediately putting myself in a position to take care of many victims, without any soul-searching. To find myself in a beneficent tunnel, which imposed a mission on me, which I fulfilled, without thinking about anything other than the useful gestures to accomplish it. All the while imagining the immediate aftermath.
Even my desire to move quickly, I had to do it right. I couldnโt act alone, on my own. The special forces that had just arrived, must first analyse the tense and unfavourable situation. Before they could even help the wounded, they had to contain the threat. Impossible to determine exactly how many terrorists there were, where they were, whether there were any among the victims, or whether others would arrive at the risk of an overattack. I had to get to the special forces doctor and give him all the help I could offer. So I wove in and out of the chalets, crossing the square to the allied line of special forces on the other side, but also to the site of the first suicide bombing. The exchange of fire was incessant, and I prayed that I would not be hit directly by a Kalashnikov magazine. It was a horror show as I tried to avoid the entangled dead bodies and the pleas for help from the terrified injured. It was a real agony.ย
As I got closer to the gunfire, the second explosion and the carousel in the centre of the park, smoke from the concentration of powder and dust came into view, slightly obstructing my vision. Extremely graphic images flashed by as I moved forward, the scent of powder and blood, two extremely metallic smells, catching my gut despite their familiarity.ย
While I was hiding between two chalets, I saw, on the other side of the main path, a child, among many others, the dozen or so, lying in the pool of his own blood. Probably a haemorrhage. I was ready to move on, continuing down the alley, joining one of the entrances to the park at the opposite end from the terrorists, going around it to join the back of the special forces. But I saw him move. An imperceptible gesture of the foot, letting me know that he was still alive, in need of urgent medical help.ย
I was near the second explosion, the wooden walls of the stands and the floor were stained with blood and flesh. And the remaining terrorists were close. If I didnโt take care of him immediately, if he was still salvageable, he would succumb to his exsanguination. I knew I had to join the special forces at all costs, but my thoughts were focused on one thing : helping this suffering child.
As I prepared to run towards him, leaving my hiding place to cross an open area, an almost unconscionable risk, a civilian, a poor panicked man, suddenly ran past me into the alley under the terrorist's machine gun. The back of his head burst, and he collapsed on the cobblestones, soon bathed in red. I realised that I had no chance to cross without dying. I had to find a solution, a way to protect myself. I looked around, hoping to find some mobile protection. My gaze then fell on a small popcorn stand with a steel structure.
I turned back to grab it, and rolled it to the border between the alley and the edge of the chalets. It was barely passing, heavy and had trouble rolling, but it would do. It had to do it. I took a deep sigh, calming the palpitations of my heart beating a thousand miles an hour, and stepped into this veritable No Man's Land. Just like I expected, the cart was immediately targeted. Bullets ricocheted off it, or sank into the alloy, all with hellish noises, echoing in my head.ย
Then, on the opposite side of this unbearable assault, on the side of my exposed flank, a man appeared from between the stands and the trees, and ran towards me, narrowly avoiding the hazardous shots. Believing at first in a terrorist, I was reassured to see that he was on my side. He was probably taking advantage of my improvised cover, trying to outflank our attackers.ย He was imposing and slightly frightening, wearing a balaclava with the part under his eyes showing the maxillary bone of a human skull. Despite his tinted glasses, his shots were precise and allowed me to move the cart faster as long as it was not riddled with enemy bullets. We soon reached the child. The damage he had sustained was worrying.ย
Debris from the blast lodged in his neck, touching his external jugular vein. The blood flow was weak, contained by the same piece of glass. Nevertheless, his breathing worried me. I unzipped his coat and felt his small body to analyse his diaphragm. Under his shirt I discovered another fragment of glass, much thicker but no more worrying. I lifted his sleeves to quickly inspect his cubital and antebrachial veins, then his median basilic vein. The veins in his left arm were beating harder.
He had venous distention probably caused by... intrathoracic pressure. His chest rose, but it was a paradoxical movement. His left lung was weakening. And I was grinding my teeth. If he had a compressive pneumothorax caused by a lesion preventing air from flowing back into the lung, he was life-threatening. I urgently needed to treat the underlying cause of the problem.ย ย
A sharp knife, twelve centimetres or longer. A small two-metre tube, two bottles of alcohol of at least 80% or better, an antiseptic, gloves and tape. I had to move fast or he would suffocate without artificial respiration. The soldier who followed me stayed with us, trying to slaughter the terrorist who was aiming at us. I turned to him and saw his first aid kit hanging from his bulletproof vest.ย
"Hey you!" I yelled at him sharply. "Give me your medical kit right now! I need it for this child."
I saw him turn to me, and impassive, he analysed our situation implacably, almost making me lose my patience.ย
"Get it." He replied, turning his attention back to our assailants.
Without wasting any time, I snatched it from him. I found all the necessities in the bare minimum, except for a bottle which I needed at all costs. I looked around for the umpteenth time, and noticed the chalet, which protects us from the terrorists, was dedicated to pancakes and crรชpes. I entered from the back under the complaint of the soldier not expecting me to leave my position and take any undue risks. But I managed to find a bottle of rum dedicated to traditional crรชpes, without being spotted by the terrorist, busy on the soldier.ย
I returned to the child, grabbed all my tools, and disinfected them with the antiseptic solution. I also cleaned his trunk, then put on a pair of gloves, which I didnโt forget to sterilise. I then set about cutting the nasal intubation tube in half, which I then pushed into the half-empty bottle of rum. I firmly taped both ends to the neck of the bottle, so that the air from the bottle could only exit through the shorter tube. The second, longer tube would go into the incision I had just made in the child's second intercostal.ย
After a few seconds of apprehension, the child takes a deep breath, letting me know that everything had worked. I then turned my attention to treating and bandaging his more superfluous but no less important wounds. I immobilised the strange body of his blow and stopped the bleeding. Suddenly the soldier at my side, after a final volley of shots that bears fruit, declared:ย
"All Bravo, carousel target neutralised, over."
A sizzling voice from his radio immediately replied with a copy. The man then leaned towards me, visibly intrigued.ย
"Why the bottle?" He asked as he retrieved his first aid kit, which I handed back to him.ย
"He has a pneumothorax. The air in the left lung will continue to leak out and accumulate until it is treated. The tube allows the air to get out but the liquid in the bottle stops the air from coming back in. This is the principle of a homemade one-way valve. Now you have to help me get this child to safety."
"Impossible, we've gotta neutralise terrorists first before assisting victims." He snapped at me, reloading his sophisticated assault rifle.ย
"Then take me to your..."
Without warning, I was interrupted by a blast, further behind me. The soldier's radio switched on just afterwards.ย
"Bravo 0-7, one enemy got blown up at the southeast exit, the rest ran into the Friday shop. Over."ย
My blood ran cold at the name. The shop opposite my family's hideout. The same building I advised them to use as a refuge.ย ย
"My family has probably taken refuge there." I immediately worried.
"Copy. Reports of potential hostages." Declared the man on his radio. "Move to the shop, 7-2 and I will join you."
In spite of the anguish that overwhelmed me at the mere thought of losing my family, I kept my composure and did not forget my duty.ย
"Take me to your medical assistant." I urged the man before he headed for the shop.ย
"Civilians don't belong here, leave immediately."
"I totally belong here." I retorted, bitter at his reluctance. "I'm a war surgeon. So now, you're going to direct me to your medic to assist him and organise the extraction of the most serious casualties, until emergency services arrive."
Imperturbable, he took a split second before making his final decision. He pointed out the location of their convoy, not far from our position, where my initial objective was. We were about to leave each other, our respective paths opposite each other, when I turned to him one last time :ย
"Please try to save my family." I implored him.
"Do your job and I'll do mine." He assured me before leaving with these words.
Far from feeling reassured, I remained powerless against a hostage situation. All I could do was save lives. A strange feeling arises in you, in this kind of moment. You were at the worst time, in the worst place, but at the same time, you would not want to be anywhere else. This was the chance to be active in such a situation. And so it was much easier for you to live afterwards, because you had acted.ย
Without any exchange of fire, I easily reached the rear of the special forces. I quickly spotted their doctor. A South African woman, tending to an unconscious victim with a serious gunshot injury. But paradoxically, the most seriously injured were the easiest to treat. They were mostly unconscious, so there was no need to communicate the contact and the decision that needed to be made. On the other hand, less serious victims who were just hidden away required more time.ย
I introduced myself to her as a colleague and tried to help as best I could. Her orders were clear and unambiguous. While complaining about the time it took for the emergency services to arrive, I learned to my horror and dismay that the attack in Leicester was not an isolated one. Three others had just taken place in the four corners of London and who knows, perhaps elsewhere in the country or on the continent. Also, I understood from the exchanges of some of the soldiers that the current special forces were not working under the UK's umbrella. I didnโt know where they came from, or who they worked for, but it didn't matter, they were able to act quickly and effectively against the threat.
I continued to apply first aid, with autonomy, without the comfort of a hospital, turning Leicester into a real triage centre for victims. The experience of being confronted with the lack of service and tools meant that I could quickly overcome this. Twilight fell when the sirens of the London Emergency Medical Service, the fire brigade and the police were heard. Their arrival on the scene was a relief to all. I set about giving a concise but brief report of the current situation of the injured and their labels, ranging from green, yellow, red and unfortunately black.ย
I was helping the stretcher bearers carry a man with a severed leg and unstoppable haemorrhage to the ambulance. Another emergency took over when they placed him in the ambulance, allowing me to linger on other casualties.
Nevertheless, my gaze focused on the Friday shop, floodlit by flashing lights, and my family emerging from it, safe and sound, accompanied by other hostages. I didnโt think twice and ran towards them, ignoring my atrocious inadequate appearance, considering the huge sprays of blood that stained my originally beige and white clothes with contrast.ย My blue gloves were now crimson and probably my face had also suffered from those long minutes of tending to the wounded in that disastrous and heartbreaking show.
My mother noticed me first and the feeling of comfort overcame her distressed face. She embraced me, grieving, and thenย my brother and father. Bless my heart, they were all alive and unharmed. The terrorists were finally neutralised, the assault by the special forces to free the hostages had been successful in my eyes.ย
In his comforting embrace, I discerned the soldier who had helped me with the child, coming out of the shop. He spotted me, and I gave him a wave of gratitude as I continued to hug my little brother. He gave me a humble nod and left to talk to his team without further ado. I led my parents to the place where the wounded labelled green, the able-bodied, were placed and cared for after the seriously injured. I asked them to look straight ahead, in the direction of the ambulances, not to lower their eyes in direction of the massacre that the square had become.
On this afternoon in December 2018, Christmas Eve, London had just fallen into terrorist barbarism and absolute chaos, scarring so many lives forever.
