“I’m going to poke around. It’s going to hurt.”
“Go ahead.” He grunted and broke out in a cold sweat as she felt the lump. He gripped the brass rungs and shook the bed. Kitty took her hand away quickly. Ari trembled for three minutes. She wiped his face with a wet towel.
“Can you talk to me, Ari?”
“It’s going away,” he said. “It comes and goes. This is a lot of fuss I’m making for a leg wound. Did your Cook County training include this sort of thing?”
Kitty smiled that he should remember. “Oh, every once in a while somebody’s husband caught the boy friend in the act and he was dumped at the emergency door.”
“What is it?”
“I can’t say for sure. Bullets do funny things. There’s no accounting for the way they twist. Your pulse and breathing are good, no shock. Your leg isn’t swollen except around the immediate area of the wound.”
“What does that mean?”
“I would say it means you haven’t had an internal hemorrhage. The bullet missed a main artery. I can’t see any infection, either. I’d say you were rather lucky … although I’m worried about this pain you’re having.”
“I’ve been passing out every few hours,” he said.
“Hold on. I want to feel around again.”
Ari braced himself but was only able to take the probing for a few seconds. He cried out and bolted up to a sitting position and then gasped and sank down.
“The sonofabitch is killing me!”
He clutched the sheets and rolled over on his face and shook.
He convulsed in pain for ten minutes, then fell limp. “Kitty … what is it? … for God’s sake, I can’t take much more …”
“Were you able to walk at all after you were hit?”
“Yes … what is it, Kitty? Why should it hurt like this?”
She shook her head. “I’m not a doctor. I can’t say for sure. I may be all wrong.”
“Tell me what you do know,” he gasped.
“All right, this is what I think. The bullet entered your outer thigh and hit the bone. It didn’t break your leg or you couldn’t walk and it didn’t pass to the inside of your thigh or it probably would have got an artery.”
“What is it?”
“I think it hit the bone and either chipped or splintered it. That’s one of the things that is hurting you. My guess is that the bullet ricocheted back toward the surface. It may be lodged against a nerve.”
“What’s going to happen?”
“It has to come out. That pain is either going to kill you or paralyze you. You can’t take a trip down the mountain. It may start all sorts of things going … a hemorrhage, God knows what. You’ll have to get a doctor up here in the next few hours-or you’re going to be in very bad trouble. That bullet has to come out.”
Ari looked over to Mussa. Kitty turned and looked at the Arab and then quickly to Ari.
“There are wounded men from yesterday’s raid hiding all over the Galilee,” Mussa said. “Every Jewish doctor in Palestine is being watched right now. If I try to bring one back up here for Ari, he is certain to be followed.” She stared from one to the other again and stood up and
lit a cigarette. “Then you’d better give yourself up and get this taken care of right away.”
Ari nodded to Mussa and the Arab walked from the room.
“Kitty,” he called.
She walked to the side of the bed. He reached out and took her hand. “They’ll hang me. It’s up to you.”
Her throat went dry. She pulled away and leaned against the wall and tried to think. Ari was calm now and his eyes were fixed on her.
“I can’t. I’m not a doctor.”
“You’ve got to.”
“There is nothing to work with …”
“You’ve got to.”
“I can’t … I can’t. Don’t you see it will be so painful … it might put you into shock. Ari … I’m frightened.”
She slumped into a chair. She thought of Ari’s leading the raid and knew he was right about his fate if the British were to find him. She thought of Dov-and how Karen had felt. She knew that she was his only hope; to do nothing was equally courting death. She bit her clenched fingers and stood up quickly. There was a bottle of brandy on the dresser. She took it to him.
“Start drinking this. When this bottle is empty, we’ll get you another one. Get drunk … get as drunk as you can, because I’m going to hurt you like hell.”
“Thanks, Kitty …”
She opened the door quickly.
“Mussa!”
“Yes.”
“Where can we get some medical supplies?”
“At the Yagur kibbutz.”
“How long will it take to get a man there and back?”
“Getting him there is no trouble. Coming back … he must not use the roads so he cannot take a car. By foot in these mountains will take many hours … maybe not even till late tonight.”
“Look, I’ll write you a list of things that I will want. You get a man to that kibbutz as fast as you can.”
Kitty considered. The messenger might get back tonight and he might not get back at all. A kibbutz dispensary might or might not have anesthetics but she could not take the chance of waiting. She wrote a note for two liters of plasma, vials of penicillin, morphine, dressings, a thermometer, and some other instruments. Mussa dispatched one of the guards to Yagur.
“Karen, I’m going to need your help but it is going to be very rough.”
“I can do anything.”
“Good girl. Mussa, do you have anything at all in the way of medicine?”
“A few things, not much.”
“Very well. We’ll make do with what we have in that first-aid kit. Do you have a flashlight and … perhaps some unused razor blades or a very sharp small knife?”
“Yes, we can get that.”
“All right, fine. I want the razor blades and the knife boiled for a half hour.”
Mussa turned and issued the order.
“Now put some blankets on the floor. The bed is too springy. He will have to be braced solidly. When we move him to the floor, Karen, you get those dirty linens off and change the bed. Mussa, get her some clean sheets.”
“Is there anything else?” Mussa asked.
“Yes, we will need six or eight men in here to move him and to hold him still.”
Everything was made ready. Blankets were laid out on the floor. Ari was drinking steadily. Four of the Druses moved him as gently as possible to the floor. Karen quickly took off the bloody sheets and remade the bed. The blades and knife were brought in. Kitty scrubbed her hands and washed the wound area and painted it with iodine. She waited until the brandy had Ari mumbling incoherently, then placed a pillow beneath his head and placed a handkerchief in his mouth for him to bite on.
“All right,” she said, “I’m ready. Hold him down and let’s get going.”
One man held Ari’s head, two men held each arm, two held the good leg and one held the bad one. The eight Druses had Ari pinned solidly to the floor. Karen stood at the edge of the group with the flashlight, brandy, and the meager supplies at hand. Kitty got on her knees and knelt close to the wound. Karen turned the flashlight on it.
Kitty took a razor blade in her fingers and motioned the men to get ready. She pressed the blade against his thigh and lined up her stroke. With one quick hard motion she slit deeply into his flesh and opened it in a two-inch cut over the bullet hole. Ari shook violently. Mucus poured from his nose, and his eyes ran with tears of agony. The men strained to hold him.
Karen saw the blood leave Kitty’s lips and her eyes started to roll. She grabbed Kitty’s hair and pulled her face up and poured brandy down her throat. Kitty gagged a second and caught herself and took another drink. Ari’s eyes rolled back into his head. He fell into blessed unconsciousness.
Karen turned the light on the incision once again. With one hand Kitty held the skin apart. With her other thumb and
third finger she dug into his flesh and felt around for the bullet. Her fingernail rubbed the hard object. With a final exertion of strength she gripped it and wiggled it loose from his leg.