Authors: Jane Harvey-Berrick
“I
’m sorry, Caroline: he was brought in five hours ago. I’ve been trying to find you.”
I felt sick and cold
, and my knees gave way. I slumped into a chair, clattering the legs against the front desk and making the young man jump.
“What
’s happened? David, please tell me!”
His voice crackled at the end of the line.
“They’re still trying to establish the facts, but off the record, it was another green-on-blue attack: sniper and a suicide bomber, they think. Caroline, you can’t report any of this.”
“I don
’t care about that, damn it! How’s Sebastian? Is he… is he hurt? Badly? How badly?”
He hesitated long enough for my world to end.
“Yes, it’s pretty bad.” He paused briefly, then snapped into doctor mode. “He has a gunshot injury that has induced a pneumothorax – a collapsed lung. We’re not too worried about that as the exit wound is clear and the bullet passed through cleanly, although there may be some nerve damage to his left arm resulting in limited fine motor skills…”
All the breath left my body.
“But he has a C
ategory A…” he paused again, before continuing slowly. “He has a severe injury to his right thigh with multiple debrided shrapnel wounds. They’re taking him into surgery now – they’ll decide then if the leg is viable. If not, it will be a trans-femoral amputation…” he paused again, “an above-the-knee amputation.”
There was a long silence and all the light in my world poured into a deep, dark hole.
“I’m sorry, Caroline… I thought you’d want to know.”
I held my hand over my mouth, as if I could press back the fear that was threatening to choke me.
“Can I see him?”
He sighed. “At the moment the answer is no. You
’re not… Look, I’ll try and get you access, Caroline, but you’d have to get yourself here and I don’t know how easy that will be. I’ll see what I can find out… but it’s a long shot. I can’t promise anything.”
“I see.”
Breathe. Breathe.
“Thank you, David. Will you let me know… if the situation changes.”
“Yes, of course. I…”
Whatever he wanted to say
died as he tried to speak, and the words remained unspoken.
“I
’ll be in touch,” he said, quietly. “Goodbye, Caroline.”
The phone line went dead and I stared at the receiver.
Oh, God, no.
No. NO! They were not going to stop me seeing Sebastian. I didn
’t care if I’d have to fight the whole damn US Army. My love needed me, and no force of hell on earth could stop me being with him.
And that thought galvanized me into action: now was not the time to go to pieces. I whipped out my
phone and scrolled through to find the emergency Satcomms number that Sebastian had given me. Emergencies only he’d said – this sure as hell qualified.
The man at reception looked like he wanted to say something about my liberal use of the hotel
’s telephone, but my ferocious expression stopped him.
I dialed quickly, and it
was answered on the second ring.
“Grant.”
Oh!
“
Captain Grant, this is Lee Venzi. I need a favor: I’m in Kabul but I have to get back to Leatherneck. Can you help me get papers, transport, anything?”
“
Miss Venzi?” He sounded surprised and annoyed. “How did you get this number? Look, now isn’t a good time.”
“I
’m sorry, but it’s urgent, Captain.”
For
only the second time since I’d known him, he swore.
“
I’ve just lost three of my men, and a further two are Cat A wounded, and…”
I screamed at him.
“I know that!”
“How the hell do you know that?” he barked
back.
“It doesn
’t matter – I just do.”
“The fuck it doesn
’t! If someone is leaking our movements and…”
I took a deep breath: losing it now was not helping.
“No!” I managed to say, in a more measured tone. “No, it wasn’t anything like that: I have a medic friend at Bastion’s field hospital; I got the information from him.”
“I didn
’t take you for a ghoul, Lee,” he said grimly.
“Fuck you,
Grant!” I snarled. “I have a
friend
who is just being operated on and I don’t know if he’s going to get through alive so just fucking get me there!”
There was a short pause.
“You’re talking about Hunter, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I said, trying not
to let my throat close up.
“
Okay, Miss Venzi,” he said, in a more even tone. “I’ll see if I can pull some strings to get you there. But don’t call this number – and don’t ask me again.”
“I won
’t,” I barked into the phone.
“Where are you staying?”
I gave him the hotel’s address and hung up.
I thought he
’d try to help me, but he had other men to worry about – other casualties. I chewed on a nail, wondering who else I could call on.
Inspiration struck: t
here was one more number I could try: Ches Peters – Sebastian’s best friend. A man whom I was pretty certain despised me.
I did the math to work out the time difference: it was about seven o
’clock in the evening in San Diego. He had two young kids, so I hoped he’d be home.
The phone rang three times before it was answered.
A child’s voice trilled down the line.
“Hello, Peters
’ residence. This is Ben Peters speaking.”
“Hi, Ben. Can I talk to your daddy, please?”
“He’s making popcorn,” said the little boy.
“Could you get him for me? It
’s important.”
There was an angry huff,
a short pause where I could hear muffled voices, and then I heard Ches come on the line.
“Hello, who
’s this?”
“Ches, this is Lee… this is Caroline Venzi… I was Caroline Wilson and…”
“I know who you are. What do you want?”
His voice was cool, but full of unspoken contempt.
“I need your help. Well, Mitch’s, I guess – I know he’s still in the Marines. I’d have called him direct but I don’t have his number.”
I realized I was babbling: I needed to focus.
“
Ches, I’m calling from Afghanistan: Sebastian has been hurt. Pretty badly…”
I had to hold the phone away from my face for a moment, stifling the choking sobs that bubbled up my throat.
“How bad?” Ches whispered.
“Bad. They
’re taking him into surgery now. They might… they’re talking about amputating his right leg.”
I heard Ches
’s shocked curse.
“
He’s at the field hospital near Camp Leatherneck, but I’m stuck 300 miles away in Kabul, and without papers. I can’t get to him. I know you think I’m a first class bitch and that I ruined his life, but I’m begging you, Ches, begging you… please, if there’s anything you or Mitch can do to get me there. I’m pulling in every favor I can think of, using every contact. I’ll do anything. If you know anyone, anyone at all… Please, Ches, please…”
“I
’ll do what I can, Caroline,” he said in a stunned, quiet voice. “Give me the details.”
I told him every
thing I knew, which wasn’t much. But it was more than most people would have known in the same circumstances: and it was thanks to David.
I was sorely tempted to call my editor, but I suspected his immediate reaction would be to
tell me to stay put until he got me on a flight home. He’d been shocked into silence when I’d told him the reason I was pulled out of Nowzad, and coming on top of what had happened to Liz, I didn’t know how much help he’d be. In fact I was pretty certain he’d try to block me getting back to Kandahar.
Desperate as I was to get to Sebastian, I had to think; I couldn
’t just charge in. It even crossed my mind to try and speak to Natalie Arnaud: she worked for the UN – she might have contacts. I decided I would wait until morning before I tried my riskier avenues. By then David or Grant might have made some wheels spin, and I was damn sure that Ches and Mitch would pull every string they could.
I went back to my room, and packed up everything, ready to leave at a moment
’s notice.
When there was nothing left to do, when every last bit of fight and determination had been used up, I lay on the bed
clutching Sebastian’s ring, and wept.
They say there are no atheists in foxholes. I say there are no atheists when you
’re begging God to keep alive the person you love.
At exactly 5.57
am
I woke up and swore.
Damn it! Why hadn
’t I thought of this last night?
This
was why it was important not to go to pieces in an emergency.
I checked my
phone and sent up a silent prayer, thanking the saints of telecommunications.
“Sergeant Benson,
this is Lee Venzi – you were my bodyguard last week.”
I could tell from his fuzzy voice that he
’d been asleep when I rang.
“Miss Venzi?”
“I’m sorry I woke you up, and I’m sorry it’s so early, but I need your help. I’m in Kabul…”
“Kabul?”
“Yes, I’m back at the Mustafa Hotel. I got evac-ed from Leatherneck… it’s a long story. Look, I’ve just found that my… fiancé has been injured and I
have
to get back out there. Can you help me?”
He sounded wide awake now.