The Fallen Page 11

They were in a small meeting room at the front of the museum, close to the minerals gallery, that the kids had set up as a sick-bay. Robbie was lying on a bed, covered by a sheet. Maeve was trying not to think too much about what she might find when they lifted that sheet.

  ‘I was helping Brooke,’ said Robbie. ‘Her and some friends of hers. Guy called DogNut, girl called Courtney and two other dudes, Felix and Marco …’

  Robbie stopped and Maeve wiped some sweat off his forehead with a damp cloth. This was obviously a bad memory for him, but he needed to get it out, so Maeve let him talk.

  ‘We were escorting them to the Tower of London,’ he went on. ‘But we were ambushed.’

  ‘I know all about it,’ said Maeve. ‘I was there. Well, only after you’d got away. Brooke told me what happened.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Robbie. ‘All the rest of them were killed, along with two of my team. We underestimated the sickos. If it wasn’t for Jackson and Ethan, who carried me back here, I’d be dead too.’

  ‘I know,’ said Maeve again, patiently. Robbie was slightly feverish, caught up in his own thoughts and nightmares.

  There were kids in two of the other beds, sitting up, watching. A boy who’d been injured in the recent attack, and a girl who had some kind of stomach upset. Maeve had been brought here by Samira, who acted as one of the museum’s doctors. She was sitting on the opposite side of Robbie’s bed to Maeve, her hair tucked up inside a headscarf. Ella and Jibber-jabber were on hospital duty and sat on an empty bed watching. For once Jibber-jabber was quiet. Robbie looked very unwell and there was a hushed atmosphere in the room.

  Samira had explained on the way over that Robbie had escaped being bitten, but his injuries were still bad and were proving slow to heal. He had a badly wrenched arm and a nasty gash in his other arm, but worst of all, apparently, was a puncture wound in his groin, on the inside of his thigh where his leg met his abdomen. As far as Samira could tell, one of Robbie’s friends had broken his sword in the fight and a sicko had got hold of a piece of blade that had snapped off. The pain as the sicko drove the metal into his body must have been awful and it had put Robbie completely out of action.

  He was quiet now, tears rolling down his cheeks. Whether from the pain or the bad memories Maeve couldn’t tell.

  ‘The wound refuses to heal,’ said Samira. ‘It keeps oozing this mixture of very black blood and a thin, watery sort of gel and this horrible stinking yellow pus.’

  ‘Nice.’

  ‘I can’t move my leg,’ Robbie added. ‘And the whole of the side of my body is burning up.’

  ‘We just don’t know what to do for him,’ said Samira.

  Maeve had learnt a bit about the set-up at the museum. As well as Samira, there were two other kids who acted as doctors. Alexander, whose father had been a surgeon, and Alexander’s girlfriend, Cass, who’d picked up stuff from studying books she’d found in the museum. Samira had always wanted to be a doctor and had done several emergency first-aid courses at school. The three of them also worked with Einstein in the laboratories. Other kids helped out with general nursing duties and some of the younger ones also took it in turns to be general dogsbodies, cleaning up and running errands, mainly to keep from getting bored.

  None of the three museum ‘doctors’ could work out what to do for Robbie, though. Their medical knowledge was still fairly limited. He lay there, sweating and groaning, and they could do little more than change his dressing, wipe his wound with antiseptic and give him painkillers. They’d been wondering whether to try him on antibiotics – they had a small supply of them at the museum – but weren’t sure which ones to use, or how exactly to use them, and so hadn’t risked it yet.

  When Samira had found out from one of the other Holloway kids that Maeve was also a medic of sorts she’d asked her in to see if she had any ideas. Both of Maeve’s parents had been doctors and it was a career she’d been set on before the world fell apart. Maeve had been intending to see Robbie in the morning, but he’d woken up half an hour ago shrieking in agony so she’d decided to take a look at him now.

  The electronic thermometer beeped to show that it was ready and Maeve took it out of Robbie’s mouth. It stuck for a moment to his parched lips. She checked the reading and frowned.

  ‘It’s pretty high,’ she said. ‘Nothing too dangerous yet, but if it keeps going up it’s not good. I think I need to see the wound. Do you mind, Robbie?’

  Robbie shook his head and tried to smile. He was a stocky kid with a broken nose and spiky hair.

  ‘If you can stop the pain you can do what you like to me,’ he said, his voice hoarse. Maeve offered him a glass of water and he gratefully took a sip.

  Maeve called the two younger kids over.

  ‘OK,’ she said, ‘can you carefully lift the sheet off him? Be as gentle as you can.’

  Ella and Jibber-jabber took one side of the sheet each. Lifted it as if it was made of thin glass. Still Robbie winced.

  He was wearing a T-shirt and some pyjama bottoms with one leg cut off. There was a big wad of cotton wool taped to the inside of his thigh. Maeve could see that it was stained with blood.

  The whole area around the wound was purple.

  ‘I’ve got to take the bandage off I’m afraid, Robbie,’ she said, and then asked Samira to help. They did it quickly and Robbie cried out.

  Maeve sucked in her breath. The wound looked horrible. It wasn’t big, but it was dribbling and infected. If it wasn’t sorted out, the flesh around it would start to die and gangrene would set in. There was also the risk of blood poisoning. The bottom line was that even though the wound might not have been that impressive to look at, if it didn’t heal Robbie might die.

  ‘Sorry about this,’ she said, ‘but I’m going to have to touch it.’

  Robbie gave a tight little nod.

  Maeve had already washed her hands and put on some surgical gloves so she bent over to get a better look and put her fingers on either side of the wound. She gently pushed. Robbie gasped, thrashed his head from side to side, grinding his teeth.

  ‘I haven’t dared do that,’ said Samira. ‘I’ve been too scared of hurting him.’

  ‘It helps that I don’t know you,’ Maeve said to Robbie, and he managed a smile.

  ‘One way to get to know each other,’ he said. ‘But right now I think you’re one sadistic bastard.’

  ‘All doctors are,’ said Maeve, peering more closely at the wound. ‘They pretend to be doing it for the good of mankind, but actually they just like to hurt people.’

  She gave another prod, pulling the wound wider. Blood bubbled out and Robbie gave a shout that was almost a scream.

  ‘Who looked at the wound when he first came in?’ Maeve asked Samira.

  ‘Alexander and Cass,’ she replied. ‘There wasn’t much to see. It didn’t look too serious at the time; they were more worried about his shoulder and the cut on his arm.’

  ‘OK.’ Maeve sat down and took Robbie’s hand. ‘You know what I think?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I think there’s probably something still in there.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah. You know what it’s like when you get a splinter? It hurts a lot more than it should for such a small thing, and if you don’t pull it out it can get all gummy and infected?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Well, I think you’ve got something like that in your wound. A bit of metal probably. What we’ve got to do is get it out. The only problem is that it’s going to hurt like hell.’

  ‘I don’t know how it could hurt any worse than it does now,’ Robbie croaked.

  ‘Oh, believe me,’ said Maeve, ‘it can hurt a million times worse. But, like a splinter, once it’s out the pain should go away pretty quick. As long as we make sure we fish everything out and nuke the infection.’

  ‘OK. When shall we do it?’

  ‘Now,’ said Maeve, letting go of Robbie’s hand and jumping to her feet. ‘There’s no point in waiting any longer. You
’ll only get worse.’

  ‘What do you need?’ said Samira. Her eyes were wide and shining. This was obviously all getting a little too real for her.

  ‘The strongest painkillers you’ve got, antiseptic, disinfectant, more of these rubber gloves, some tweezers, a scalpel, a powerful torch and something to hold the wound open, you know, like some forceps? To be really safe, we’re going to need to boil the scalpel and the tweezers. Oh, and we should grab three of the strongest guys we can find.’

  While Maeve gave Robbie another painkiller, Samira, Ella and Jibber-jabber hurried off to get everything ready. Maeve was left to try to keep Robbie’s spirits up. She chatted to him about his old life as a way of distracting him. Sometimes kids found it too distressing to remember the past, and all they’d lost, but Robbie was clearly relieved not to have to think about his present situation.

  He told her how he’d grown up in Hammersmith, to the west of the museum, with one older sister and his mother. How they’d both got sick and died. It gave him some comfort to think that they hadn’t become sickos. At least they’d found some peace. He’d been driven eastwards in the early days of the disaster, travelling with a group of friends to find somewhere safe.

  ‘Hammersmith was mad back then,’ he said. ‘Battles in the streets. Not just sickos, but looters, criminals, gangs, rude boys. It was like a war. Bare dangerous. We had to get out. Only just made it too. Got me nose busted up by a gang who didn’t like the look of us. Eventually we rocked up here. Met Justin and his crew, who’d arrived from south London in a big old supermarket lorry. We helped him break in and we been here ever since. What about you?’

  ‘I grew up in the countryside,’ said Maeve. ‘I’m not a Londoner at all. We were visiting friends when it all kicked off. I’ve been wanting to get out of London ever since. Can’t find anyone to go with me, though. Einstein’s expedition, they’ve gone west, haven’t they?’

  ‘Yeah. Probably out through Hammersmith, then along the M4 to Heathrow somewhere.’

  ‘Well, when they get back they can tell us what it’s like,’ said Maeve. ‘What the roads are like. If it’s safe. I really, really don’t want to stay in the city any longer. It’s crazy. Out there, there are farms, animals, fields, proper places to grow food, space.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Robbie. ‘And sickos as well, most like.’

  ‘Can’t be any worse than here, can it?’ said Maeve. ‘We were persuaded to come into the centre of town by this weird guy who calls himself Jester.’

  ‘I know him,’ said Robbie. ‘He’s David’s poodle at the palace.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s him. I tried to argue against it, said if we were going anywhere we should go to the countryside, not into the middle of town. I was shouted down. And here we are. And it’s crap. No offence. Just more of the same. Getting from one day to another, slowly being killed by grown-ups.’

  ‘Tell you what,’ said Robbie. ‘If you can fix me up, make the pain go away, give me back my leg, I’ll personally escort you.’

  Maeve gave him a twisted smile.

  ‘Like you escorted that last lot?’ Instantly she realized that she shouldn’t have tried to make a joke about the attack. It was still too raw for Robbie.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly. ‘That was wrong.’

  Robbie was silent for a while then he looked up at Maeve. ‘I’ll make a better job of it than that whole mess,’ he said. ‘Do it properly, get a decent crew together. Take you on a trip to the countryside.’

  ‘I’ll hold you to that.’

  ‘Yeah, good. Good.’ Robbie appeared to brighten up.

  ‘You might never forgive me, though.’ Maeve stared at the ugly hole in Robbie’s leg.

  ‘I’ll forgive anything if it works …’

  Maeve said nothing. If it works. She had no idea about that; she might just do more damage. There might not be anything in the wound.

  After a while Jibber-jabber and Ella came back, carrying a steaming saucepan with surgical instruments rattling in the bottom. They were closely followed by Samira, who had found Lewis, Boggle and Whitney.

  ‘OK,’ said Maeve. ‘Lewis, you take his feet. Hold them down, sit on them, whatever it takes, but I don’t want him kicking about.’

  ‘Cool,’ said Lewis sleepily and he sauntered to the foot of the bed.

  ‘You two lie across his body, so he can’t move.’

  Whitney giggled and raised her eyebrows at Robbie.

  ‘Why don’t we just take his arms?’ asked Boggle.

  ‘His arm’s cut and his shoulder’s been pulled about,’ said Maeve. ‘I don’t want to make it worse.’

  She handed Robbie a wad of rolled-up bandage. ‘You better bite on this,’ she said.

  He swallowed hard then clamped the wad between his teeth. He had a glassy-eyed, anxious look about him. Poor bastard. It was about to get a whole lot worse.

  Samira put on rubber gloves and soaked everything in disinfectant. Once she was ready Maeve picked up the scalpel.

  ‘I’m going to open the wound up a bit,’ she said to Samira. ‘So we can get inside. Then you need to use the forceps to hold the edges apart so I can get the tweezers in. OK?’

  ‘OK.’ Samira looked as glassy-eyed and anxious as Robbie.

  Maeve had read about this kind of surgery before, watched countless hospital programmes on the TV, but she’d never had to do anything like this in real life. She breathed out.

  ‘Hold him still …’

  Sniggering and making rude comments, Boggle and Whitney manoeuvred into position and lowered their bodies across Robbie, pinning him to the bed, while Lewis casually took hold of his legs.

  ‘Ow,’ said Robbie, and he gave Boggle a filthy look. ‘I thought you was supposed to be my friend, Boggle.’

  ‘Moist,’ said Boggle, and he grinned at Whitney.

  Maeve took a deep breath and stabbed the point of the scalpel into Robbie’s skin about a centimetre away from the wound. His whole body jerked and he whimpered pathetically. Boggle and Whitney weren’t grinning any more. Lewis was unmoved; he stayed his usual calm, cool self, watching Maeve, almost bored, like someone spectating at a game of chess. Maeve didn’t stop. She quickly dragged the scalpel towards the wound, then repeated the process on the other side, making a long slit with the puncture at its centre. Robbie was struggling against the bodies that held him down, but this was nothing.

  ‘OK, Samira,’ said Maeve. ‘Over to you. Get the tip of the forceps in and open them out. I need to see what I’m doing.’ Samira nodded and moved in closer. Maeve turned to Jibber-jabber. ‘You’re on torch duty. Shine it directly at the wound.’

  Jibber-jabber came over to join Samira, who forced the forceps into the slit and opened them out. The inside of the wound was pink and shiny, like raw chicken.

  The torch beam was wavering all over the place. Maeve looked at Jibber-jabber; his face was turned away and screwed tight.

  ‘If you’re too squeamish give the torch to Ella,’ Maeve snapped. ‘But you have to shine it in there or I can’t see a thing.’

  ‘Sorry.’ JJ pulled himself together and aimed the torch directly at the gaping wound. It jiggled slightly in his trembling hand, but he kept his eyes fixed in place.

  Maeve held her breath again and tried to still her own trembling hand. She leant closer, closer – Samira widened the opening – and then she saw it, deep inside Robbie’s leg: a black tip.

  ‘There’s something there,’ she murmured, and Robbie moaned into the gag.

  ‘Here goes,’ she said and poked the nose of the tweezers inside the opening. ‘Wider,’ she said to Samira, and closed the tweezers on the sliver of metal, pulled …

  ‘Rrrrrrrrrrrrrgh,’ Robbie growled, fighting the two bodies on top of him.

  Maeve tugged harder and the shard of metal slowly slid free. There it was, dripping blood. About two centimetres long, with a nasty jagged edge. She dropped it into a saucer by the bed.

  ‘Is that it?’ said Samira. She was tre
mbling, sweat running down her face.

  ‘No. I need to check there’s nothing else in there.’ Maeve tried to give Robbie a reassuring smile. ‘Nearly over.’

  He glared at her through angry, pained eyes.

  ‘Get the torch in closer, and Samira – wider still.’

  ‘I can’t …’

  ‘Yes, you can.’

  Samira managed to force the forceps a little wider and Maeve poked about with the tweezers in the hole.

  ‘There!’

  She dug deeper, causing Robbie to shudder down the entire length of his body. Then she extracted a small piece of mushy material.

  ‘Part of his trousers,’ she said triumphantly, tossing the scrap next to the shard of blade. ‘You can take the forceps out now, and, JJ, you can stand down, dude.’

  Jibber-jabber let out his breath and collapsed on to the next bed. Samira gratefully returned the forceps to the saucepan as Maeve sloshed antiseptic into the wound.

  ‘Can you stitch?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes. We didn’t think it was worth it before, it was such a small hole.’

  ‘It’s not so small any more.’

  ‘I’m an idiot,’ said Samira. ‘I should have got the sewing stuff before. I’ll need to go back to the labs. If I hurry, I can probably just make it over there before they close down for the night.’

  ‘Go to it. And I think we’d better risk some antibiotics. I’ll accept responsibility. And you, Robbie, can relax …’

  But Robbie had passed out.

  ‘If only he’d done that sooner,’ said Maeve. ‘Would have made it a whole lot easier for all of us.’

  ‘That was well awesome,’ said Lewis, nodding his head in approval.

  ‘You guys can get back to whatever it was you were doing.’

  Maeve stood over Robbie and wiped his forehead again with the damp cloth.

  ‘Cool.’ Lewis sauntered out.

  Maeve waited for the older boys to leave, then sat down before her wobbly legs gave way. She was exhausted. Felt like she’d run a marathon. She’d been incredibly tense and now her body was being flooded with endorphins that were turning her a little spacey.

  She couldn’t really believe what she’d just done.