Recoil - Andy McNab [82]
The phone went dead.
Sam checked the watch hanging round his neck. ‘You tried, and that’s good enough. It’ll be up to Standish to explain to the big Swiss cheese. He won’t like it. That’s five of them dead now. Two out there, three of disease. The Chinese won’t be happy either. But that’s not our problem right now, is it? We got just under four hours of light left. That’s when things will kick off around here. He’d better grip that gunshot wound and get a move on.’
We moved back to Silky, who was struggling to lift the heavy jerry-can to her lips.
‘She’s fucked her ankle. I’ll have to try and sort it out.’
Sam nodded. ‘Soon as you’ve squared her away, come and find me. I’ve got work for you.’
2
Silky wasn’t the only one who needed food and fluid. I wasn’t feeling at all good. An out-of-tune military band was banging away inside my head, and my whole body felt drained. I’d been running every day in Lugano and using Stefan’s gym in the house, so it wasn’t like I was out of condition, but none of that counts for much when you’re dehydrated and fucked.
I scooped myself another helping of dirty brown sludge. Silky finished drinking and handed me the jerry-can.
‘I’ll be back in a minute.’ I headed for the boy.
I could now see that the sheets of paper were covered with crayon drawings. Sunday really did look like a schoolboy now, and that made things worse. I tossed him my rice can. He caught it and started digging hungrily.
Silky looked curious when I returned. ‘Who’s that?’
‘Sunday. A child soldier we picked up last night.’
She got up and hobbled over to the boy while I got the jerry-can to my mouth. I could feel the fluid work its way down and start to fill my stomach.
Silky wasn’t impressed. ‘Oh, my God, what are you doing? He’s not a dog!’
I tried to lower myself to the ground without my leg muscles screaming at me to stop. Then I realized what was on her mind.
‘It’s inhuman!’
‘Stop, stop, stop!’ I jumped up and ran after her. The pain had disappeared. ‘Don’t go near him!’ I grabbed her as she got within biting distance. ‘He was ripping chunks of flesh out of people last night. Just leave him alone – let him settle down.’
‘Nick, he’s just a boy.’
‘He’s getting fed, he’s getting watered. He’s OK. Come on.’ I steered her back to the fire. ‘He’s not the only one who needs sorting out.’
As she sat down, I straightened her leg and supported it on my thigh. I undid her laces and gently eased off her boot. The bruising round her ankle was now a sulphurous yellow.
I examined it as gently as I could. ‘Does it feel broken?’
She shrugged. ‘I can’t feel anything much, just pain. Can you find me some ibuprofen or something? And bandages, or some kind of strapping?’
‘Wait here,’ I said. ‘And don’t go anywhere near the kid.’
I found a basic trauma-care kit in one of the tents and, with her leg supported on my thigh again, I started to dress her ankle with a 50mm bandage. She kept telling me what needed to be done. I’d probably treated a whole lot more trauma cases as a patrol medic than she had as a trainee doctor, but I wasn’t about to argue the toss.
She sat on a log, her hands stretched out behind her. I took the strapping halfway up her calf, trying to give her ankle as much support as possible. It needed a cold compress, but they were in pretty short supply. I certainly wasn’t going to waste the drinking water, or go anywhere near the river with the LRA fucking about in the treeline.
It felt good to be doing this for her, and, well, just to be holding her leg, really. ‘We’ll get you into one of the tents in a minute. Water, food and rest, that’s what you need.’
Her mind was elsewhere. ‘Tim?’
‘I’ll find out in a minute. Let’s get you sorted first.’
I eased her arm over my shoulder, put my hand round her waist, and helped her hobble into the nearest tent. She collapsed on to a cot and I grabbed a couple of folded blankets to elevate her leg.
‘Can you still feel your toes? Wiggle your toes for me.’
She did.
‘Can you feel that?’ I gave them a pinch.
She nodded.