A God in Ruins - Leon Uris [66]
“IV and Quinn,” Dr. Wheat called.
“I’m all right,” Quinn gasped. “Are you hit? I just have a little trouble seeing.”
IV was alive and groaning. He pointed at his side. Wheat ripped his shirt in half to get to the wound and applied a pressure pack, hard now, hard. “Now, don’t you go into shock on me, IV. You’re going to make it if we can stop the bleeding. Talk.”
“That’s better, count me in,” IV rasped.
“Doc! We got a mess back here.”
“IV, press hard. Quinn, I’ll send Corpsman Lew up for you.”
“Yo.”
The doctor got Marsh on the operating litter and examined the mangled limb and mapped a course of action. He applied a tourniquet and sent Corpsman Lew forward.
Lew had Quinn sit, then knelt alongside him. “Hang on, bubba.” He wrapped a large cloth over Quinn’s head and wiped the blood from his face. It was very difficult to move, for the cabin ceiling was dripping with the blood of the three dead Marines and the floor was slimy with it.
“Talk to me, bubba. Where did you get hit?”
“I think the back of my head and the front of my head.”
“How’s your attitude?”
“I’m okay, goddammit.”
“Talk about shithouse luck,” Corpsman Lew said. “Back of your neck is ripped, and it looks like a mole furrow right around to your forehead…and that’s got a nice hole in it. You gonna be all pretty again, Quinn. I’m taping the gash together and wrapping your head tight. We’ll get that bleeding…yes, sir.”
“Whew, Lew, be gentle, mother.”
Corpsman Lew gasped for breath after finishing a very rapid binding.
“Who got hit?” Quinn cried.
“Cherokee, Novinski, and Dogbreath are dead. IV is hurting. Marsh’s wounded. We’ll have to go into IV’s belly and take a look.”
Quinn’s mind bolted through bashings of pain. He gave himself a few seconds more to align with the situation. Think, son, think. He dared open his eyes, and the first sight of the cabin caused him to vomit. That was good. The puking was over with.
It became clear. IV was the only one who could fly the SCARAB. Quinn called for Doc Wheat and Grubb.
The doctor checked Quinn quickly. “You’ll last for a while. Corpsman Lew. Shot of penicillin in the ass for Quinn and prepare some plasma. I’ve got to get back and take Marsh’s leg off.”
“No,” Quinn snapped. “IV is the only one who can fly us out. He has priority on medical attention. Grubb.”
“Yo.”
“Dogbreath told me to take over. Do you have any problem with that?”
“I heard him,” IV rasped.
“Hell, no, Gunner,” Grubb said.
“As I understand it,” Quinn said, “we’ve got two emergencies, Marsh and IV. IV is the only one who can fly us out. Keep him awake and out of shock.”
“What about Marsh?” Dr. Wheat asked.
“Corpsman Lew is assigned to Marsh till you can get back to him.”
“But I can’t fly, I can’t move,” IV agonized.
“You can tell me how to fly. Remember, I’ve logged a few hours’ flight time on this plane,” Quinn said.
“Can you see at all, Quinn?”
“We’ll work that out. No choice. Kindly stay alive, IV. I need Jarvis front and center.”
Master Tech Sergeant Roosevelt Jarvis had been seated close to the front cabin. He wormed his way in.
“Novinski has bought it,” Quinn said.
“Shit.”
“Take Dogbreath’s seat and run down our systems.”
As Quinn cleared his eyes of blood, Jarvis came up with death-notice news. “All the systems are inoperative. The display panels have been blown away. I don’t think we’ve even got radio.”
“Quinn to Grubb.”
“Yo.”
“I need some paper maps and a pair of field compasses. I’m keeping Jarvis here with me.”
Quinn turned to the blown-in window. “IV, any way we can fly with the window out?”
“No.”
“Mercer, this is Quinn. Get your tool kit and come up here.”
They moved with unerring grace through the slippery carpet as Quinn gave orders between thumps of blood spilling down his face.
A break! The window frame was made of titanium and intact. Mercer measured the hole.
“I think the back of my seat is titanium,” Quinn rasped. “Remove it and see if you can use a piece.”
“No way we can attach it in the frame.”
“All right,” Quinn said,