to her mouth. Tariq held me there, shouting that I should let them work. But the dead TV tone was louder now, rising in pitch in response to the gunfire.
The soldier I had seen with Sue lifted my dad in his arms and carried him away, Mrs Atkins close behind. Sue followed, going down the stairs backwards, carefully pulling the woman in the wheelchair behind her. When they had disappeared Tariq let me go, to sprawl on the landing in my father's blood.
I felt numb. All I could hear was dead air and static.
Jane
I saw Lee fly backwards from the door and I screamed. He couldn't be dead. He just couldn't. And then my eyes seemed to play tricks on me, because there he was, shaven-headed and bruised, crouched at the door, shooting the guy behind me and then turning round to grab… who?
A young man stepped between us and reached down to put his hand on Lee's shoulder.
'You!' I shouted. 'Come here, get me out of this fucking bed.'
The man turned to face me. He had brown skin, black hair and kind brown eyes. This must be Tariq, I thought. He didn't move, stunned, it seemed, by what had happened, unsure which way to turn.
'Quickly,' I yelled. 'I'm a doctor.' That did the trick. He ran into the room, grabbed the wheelchair and pushed it alongside the bed. Then he stood there, hesitating. 'What?' I said, exasperated beyond words.
'Um, you're…'
I looked down. I was in my pyjamas.
'Oh for God's sake just pick me up, man.'
'Right, yeah, of course.'
I could hear a low keening noise coming from the landing as Tariq lifted me from my bed into the wheelchair and pushed me towards the two people on the floor. It was only when I reached the door that I realised who the shot man must be.
'Is that Lee's dad?'
'John, yeah,' mumbled the Iraqi.
I heard heavy footsteps on the stairs and then John croaked: 'A school. After all that, I buy it in a bloody school,' and gasped. Lee bent over his dying father and moaned, a low piteous wail of pure emptiness and grief.
I looked to my left and saw Mrs Atkins, Sue and a Yank soldier racing towards us.
'Sue,' I shouted. 'You're a nurse, yes?'
'Yeah,' she said as she skidded to a halt beside me.
'Who operated on me while I was out? Was it you?'
'No, Doctor Cox, he flew back to the main staging area with the general.'
'Shit. But is the OR still in place? Did they strike the OR?'
She looked at me and gasped as she realised what I was suggesting.
'No, it's still there, hooked up to the generator and everything.'
'Right, you,' I said, pointing to the Yank soldier. 'What's your name?'
'Jamal, Ma'am.'
'Right, Jamal, pick this man up and take him to the OR now. Sue, wheel me downstairs. We have to work fast if we're going to save him.'
Sue blanched. 'I'm not qualified to…'
'No, but I am. I'll direct you. Sue, it's his only chance. We can do this.'
She had gone white, but she nodded. 'Ok,' she whispered.
Jamal shoved himself past us and reached down to remove Lee, but Tariq blocked his way with a sneer and did it himself, holding Lee back as we moved away. I so wanted to stop and hold Lee, comfort him, feel the reality that he was back. But there was time for tearful reunions later.
'Sue, wheel me downstairs,' I ordered. 'We've got work to do.'
The operating room that Blythe had used to fix me up had been erected in the kitchen. Ironically, it was the same room I'd used for my fake surgery on the captain who'd been shot here. I tried not to think about what I'd done that day, about the young soldier dying in my arms after I slit his throat. Too much blood on my hands.
A polythene clean-room had been erected using gaffer tape, and there was a makeshift airlock through which you entered the sterile area.
Jamal was standing inside the doorway, still holding John, looking unsure about what to do when Sue wheeled me in. Mrs Atkins entered behind us.
I saw a rack of scrubs in the corner, a tub of alcohol handwash by the sink and a pile of tissue hats and facemasks beside it.
'Is he still breathing?' I asked as we entered.
Jamal nodded.
'Good. No time for protocol now. Jamal, get him on the operating table then get out again.' He did so. 'Back upstairs, help the others. Mrs Atkins, you're going to help Sue perform surgery.'
She nodded briskly. Did nothing faze her?
'Right, both of you, take your shoes off, scrub up in the sink and get those hats and masks on. Where are the instruments?'
'Over there.' Sue pointed to a trolley with a metal tray on top of it. In it rested a collection of surgical instruments, some still covered in blood.
'Shit. I suppose boiling water's out of the question?' I asked. Without a word Mrs Atkins walked behind the polythene sheets and I heard a click. She popped out again. 'Kettle's on.'
'Then let's get to work.'
Lee
I sat on the landing, arms wrapped around my knees, rocking back and forth with my eyes closed, my clothes slick with my father's blood.
I felt a hand on my shoulder but I ignored it. It squeezed, trying to attract my attention. I reached up and batted it away. Then someone put their hand across my mouth. I opened my eyes, ready to shout, but Tariq's nose was an inch from mine and he had his finger to his lips. When he saw that I was with him he held up four fingers and pointed down. I saw past him to Jamal, who stood at the top of the stairs, gun raised, craning across the banister to look down into the entrance hall.
Tariq leaned forward and whispered into my ear.
'Wrong ear,' I muttered. He switched.
'Sorry,' he said. 'At least four coming in the front, probably more out back. It was a trap, Lee. They must have been waiting for us to make a move.'
'Dad?'
'In the kitchen. Matron and the others are operating on him now.'
'Right, let's go.'
'I think we…' he began, but I was already on my feet and moving past him. I lifted my machine gun to my waist with my left hand, took my browning out with my right, and walked past Tariq and Jamal before they could react. I walked quickly, focused and calm, straight down the stairs, peripherally aware of Tariq running to stop me. As I descended I saw two soldiers moving cautiously through the entrance hall, silently checking the rooms. One of them saw me, but before he could warn his colleague or bring his weapon to bear I opened fire with the machine gun.
The bullets raked across his body, flinging him backwards as I crouched and fired the browning, taking the other soldier three times in the chest. I stood up and kept moving.
Tariq fell into step beside me.
'They'll have heard that,' he said wearily, like he was too tired to be angry.
'Good.' I said coldly.
A stream of bullets flew past our heads. I dived down the last three steps, spinning in mid air and letting off some shots at the shooter in the office door. I missed, but the doorframe splintered, momentarily distracting the gunman. Tariq stepped over me and shot the guy in the head.
I'd hit the hard tiled floor with my bad shoulder but I hardly even noticed the pain. I felt a knot of hatred in my belly as I leapt up. These fuckers had shot my dad and I wasn't going to stop until every last one of them
