Flashback
Part Two
By Pebbles
Pebbles@ukgateway.net

Rated NC-17 for language and sexual content. 

“Hey Abby, how’s our Jane Doe doing?” This newcomer sounds pretty cheerful. 

“Oh, Malucci. Er…she’s doing fine.” He must have startled her as she answers hesitantly. “The lab results are back – looks like the charcoals done the job.” Her confidence is increasing as she speaks.

“Uh-huh.” There is a moment’s silence. I guess he is reading the report. “So - what are the possible complications of barbiturate poisoning?” He’s talking more like a teacher now. 

“Er…” She hesitates but just for a moment. “Pneumonia, shock, hypoxia and coma.” She reels off the list like she’s reading straight out of a textbook.

“Cool.” This guy sounds way too laid back to be a doctor. “So, why pneumonia?” He questions her further.

“Barbiturate poisoning leads to depressed respiration which increases the risk of aspiration.” I can tell she is smiling – confident that she has the right answer.

“Correct. So we won’t be extubating her just yet.” He whistles tunelessly under his breath. I get the impression that he is bored – waiting for some action. “So where’s Kovac?”

“He’s on a break. I think he went out to get something to eat.” Their voices get fainter as they move away from the bedside.

I am alone again. It is weird being talked about like you weren’t there but I’m not complaining. It’s easier to just pretend that I’m asleep. With a bit of luck I might succumb to pneumonia and then all this would be over. I wasn’t always so keen to die. On our trip to Bosnia in 1995 I was terrified of it.

The morning starts well. The squaddies had rigged up a fairly primitive shower the night before so I have been able to wash my hair before breakfast, which puts me in a really good mood. I can cope with a fair bit of back to the woods stuff but I can’t stand having dirty hair.

Mrs Barton, our convoy leader had cooked the most amazing fry up breakfast – a real coronary special. Zarko made a brew of coffee that could have put hairs on your chest and the sun was shining in a perfect blue sky.

Things go downhill though when I take my coffee over to our van and climb on the tailgate to enjoy the view and try to rub my hair dry in the sun. I have had it cut short especially for this trip so it shouldn’t take long. I’m lost in my own thoughts when one of the squaddies decides to join me.

“How ya doin’ Sunshine? Enjoyed your shower did you?” It’s the shorter one they call ‘Digger’ - the same one who accosted me yesterday when I was hoping to slip off behind the bushes. I give him a polite smile.

“Yes thank you”

“Hot enough for you, was it?” Somehow he manages to fill these fairly innocent words with a remarkable amount of sexual innuendo.

I realise that he is staring blatantly at my breasts. No doubt the cool morning air is giving him a good impression of my nipples. Regretting not wearing a bra under my vest top, I surreptitiously slip the towel I was drying my hair with around my shoulders so that it spoils his view.

“Thank you. It was fine. Don’t let me keep you, I’m sure you’ve got plenty to do.” This is my attempt at a firm but polite brush off. It goes completely over his thick head.

“Nah, I’ve got nothing better to do.” He has now shifted his attention to my legs, which he gawks at as if he had never seen a pair before in his life. I resist the urge to move them as there’s no way, clad in shorts, that I can make them any less conspicuous. My legs have always drawn unwanted attention although these days at least I no longer get taunted with the ‘Bambi’ nickname.

He leans against the side of the van, his face only inches away from me. “That sister of yours, she’s a dyke isn’t she?” He seems very proud of himself for figuring this out and he says the word ‘dyke’ with such a leer that I guess he’s the kind of bloke who gets off on watching lesbian porn films.

“I can’t see that it’s any of your business!” My voice is raised and, to my humiliation my face is burning.

Just at this moment, Dugi walks by. He directs one of his intense stares at me, taking in the leering squaddie and my reddened face. There’s no way of knowing what he is thinking as he continues on his way.

“Cor, never seen old Dugi take a shower before. He must be fancying his chances with you ladies!” Digger seems to think this is a huge joke. I’m just glad he has diverted his attention away from me. I take the opportunity to jump down from the tailgate.

 Dugi has disappeared into his tent but I am left with a lasting impression of his naked torso. His back is broad but painfully thin – the contours of his ribs clearly defined under his olive skin - and there are scars spreading out over it as if he had been flailed alive. With his hair dripping wet and hanging limply over his shoulders he hardly looks like the same man.

Two hours later we are on the road again having covered a fair bit of ground. We expect to be crossing from Croatia into Bosnia by early afternoon. Digger is riding in the white Landrover with Zarko and Dugi at the rear of the convoy and Lieutenant Hamilton and the other Squaddie, Mike drive at the front. The tension in the atmosphere has moved up a notch. All the soldiers are armed to the teeth and even Dugi carries a rifle with telescopic sights over his shoulder.

There is a slightly surreal note as music blares from the Landrover in front. They have a partiality for Dire Straits and ‘Brothers in Arms’ echoes around the countryside. Elaine is driving and teasing me about my little difficulty with the Squaddie this morning.

“They’re only boys you know!” She laughs, a cigarette clenched between her lips. “And you’re asking for it if you wear your shorts so damn short!”

“I can’t believe you said that!” I’m shocked “What happened to your feminist ideals?”

“I didn’t say you were asking for sex! But you can’t expect not to be noticed looking like that – Christ, if you weren’t my sister I’d fancy you myself.” She grins.

“Piss off, Elaine!” I’d expected sympathy not collusion with the enemy. It’s not the first time I’ve been troubled by men latching on to me. Although she’s much shorter then me I’ve always looked to my big sister for support. Realising I’m not going to get it this time I change the subject.

“I wonder what happened to Dugi at Vukovar?” I light myself a cigarette, blowing the smoke out in little puffs that curl around my nose.

“Something pretty dreadful I expect.” Elaine is concentrating hard on the road ahead, which twists and turns alarmingly.

“Yeah - to not be able to speak at all for three and a half years. Christ, you can’t begin to imagine that - can you? I saw his back this morning, you know. It was covered in scars Elaine – like he had been tortured!” I stare out of the window but I don’t see the scenery.

“Hey, don’t go getting all emotional about this. You’re going to see a lot worse, Sarah!” Elaine is looking hard at me. “There’ll be children at Zenica. Some will have been injured and most will have lost their parents. You’re not going to fall apart on me are you?”

I can’t answer this. I have no idea how I’m going to cope with it.

We stop briefly for lunch just north of Gradiska. Lieutenant Hamilton is on the radio keeping ahead of the latest developments. We have been instructed to change our route already to avoid Banja Luka where there has been some sort of trouble this morning. If we want to relieve ourselves we have to have an armed escort. I decide to drink less Coke.

I chew on my sandwich which is pretty tough going – its not been possible to buy fresh bread since we left Austria. Zarko comes to sit beside me, lowering his considerable bulk down onto the groundsheet. For a while we eat in silence and then I find I can’t help myself asking him about Dugi.

“Do you know if Dugi ever spoke before the war? I mean – might he always have been mute?” I hope he doesn’t mind my curiosity. Dugi is nowhere to be seen. He doesn’t have to have an armed guard wherever he goes.

“Oh, Dugi can speak alright – in his sleep!” Zarko seems to be more than happy to talk about his friend.

“Oh, I see. But never whist he’s conscious?”

“No, not a word in three and a half years. But at night – well, that’s a different matter. He keeps me awake night after night with his constant nightmares!” It’s quite clear from his tone that this is not a complaint. He would put up with anything from his friend.

“Oh.”

There is a long silence as we finish up our lunch. Elaine comes by and drops Sophie into my lap. She and Mrs Barton are going to find a quiet spot behind the bushes. Sophie has just been fed and sleepily nuzzles into my shoulder smelling sweet and milky. I rub her back as Elaine has shown me.

Dugi arrives back from – well wherever he’s been - and empties his pockets into Zarko’s lap: half a dozen brown speckled eggs. We don’t ask where he got them. He sits down beside Zarko and accepts the sandwich that has been saved for him.

“So, you must tell us something about yourself, Sarah” Zarko turns to me expectantly. “You live in London?”

“I’m studying there. My family live in Kent – that’s not far from London. I get to go home quite often.” Talking about home seems like talking about a different planet. I feel guilty about the life of ease and security I have left behind.

“And what do you study, Sarah?” This is turning out to be twenty questions.

“I’m doing a post-graduate diploma in teaching.” Thinking that I ought to elaborate for the sake of making conversation I add, “I previously did a degree in English at Bristol University. But it didn’t exactly qualify me to do anything.”

“And you like teaching?”

“Oh yes – I love working with children, especially the little ones. Mind you some of the placements in London schools have been rough. They eat me alive!” I smile at the remembrance of my last placement. They’d had me climbing the walls.

“You hear that, Dugi? This young lady is going to be a teacher.” He might as well have been speaking to a brick wall for all the response he gets. Zarko then struggles up to his feet using Dugi’s shoulder as a support. Mumbling something about going to see Lieutenant Hamilton he waddles off, leaving me alone with the silent Dugi.

Sophie begins to fret. Her tiny hands clench and her face crumples into a grimace. I stand up and walk around hoping that she will settle down but nothing I do seems to calm her. I look up the road hoping that Elaine will come back soon but I can’t see any sign of her. I feel embarrassed at my inability to soothe Sophie especially as I was just spouting forth on how much I liked working with children. Not that I meant babies – I have absolutely no confidence in this department.

I sense that Dugi is looking at me and turn around to face him. I hope that I do not look as desperate as I feel. I’m almost sure that there is the faintest hint of a smile on his lips although I could be imagining it. His gaze as always is intense – straight into my eyes. He holds out his arms towards me and without thinking I stoop down and hand Sophie over to him. I have no idea what made me do this.

For a moment he holds Sophie out in front of him, her legs dangling and studies her earnestly. He then lays her down on her tummy across his lap and rubs her back nonchalantly with one hand. After just a few moments he is rewarded with the most enormous burp. She stops fretting and within minutes she is fast asleep.

“Gosh, thank you. You certainly have a way with babies!” I am truly impressed. He stands up carefully, cradling Sophie. They make a startling picture – the tall unkempt man and the tiny baby, looking even more tiny in his arms. I notice that his hands are really large. Not coarse like a workman’s but with long elegant fingers. He gives her one last long – almost longing – stare and then hands her back to me.

As he places her in my arms his hands touch the bare skin at the top of my arms and I feel a sensation like a jolt of electricity between us. He feels my recoil and steps back suddenly. His face is closed off again and he turns on his heel and strides off down the road after Zarko. I feel like I have shut a door in his face.

I feel the touch of a hand on my arm, which sends a jolt though my body.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” It’s the soft raspy voice of Dr Kovac again. “I’m just checking on your IV site. We don’t want any more complications for you.” He is quiet for a while whilst he makes adjustments or something. I wish I could see him and at the same time I am fearful about having my dressings removed. They are giving me a kind of refuge from facing up to the world.

“Everything is fine. We will be moving you to the ICU in a minute. They’ll take good care of you up there and you should be able to get rid of these nasty tubes soon.” His voice is so kind that tears well up in my eyes. It has been so long since anyone has shown me any compassion at all. I nod my head to let him know that I have heard him.

He places his hand on my wrist. His touch is gentle and yet firm. “Your body will recover from this, you know but you may need some help to…to heal the pain inside you.” He squeezes my arm gently. “There are some good people here who can help you – if you just give them the chance. Please let them help you.” I turn my head away from him. No one can help me. And I don’t want them to.

End of part 2

Pebbles@ukgateway.net