Page 32 - Archangel

for assistance with Ndara who had lost more blood than either captain
realized. The bullet had pierced and plowed to within a millimeter of the
skull. Any intent of Dr. Collins to chastise even Skye disappeared as his
seemingly invincible Scottish-American friend himself required assistance
to regain his balance on land.
With MacIain responding to the Northern Irishman’s voice for the first
time, Sean implored “Come with us, Skye. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, but you
made it, you daft rogue.” Sean placed both boat captains in wheelchairs so
they did not pitch off the dock before reaching the clinic. In seating Skye,
Dr. Collins retracted a bloody hand in shock, asking, “What the hell did
you do to yourself, Highlander?”
Short of breath, Skye guessed, “Not sure when. Think a small piece of
shrapnel blew off the cleat and nicked my side.”
Applying pressure to the wound, the PFW doctor shot back, “More than
a bloody nick, lad.”
MacIain looked up at Sean with haunted eyes and shared, “Sorry we
failed to rescue Layla, but we were hours late. We’ve lost our angel, Sean.”
Collins quickly changed the subject to share, “All of the refugees she saved
are fed, resting and sorting out their miraculous survival, thanks to Layla.”
Grabbing Sean’s wrist like a vice, Skye queried, “And her son, Sean? Did he
come through okay?
Gently escaping his grip, he said, “The same, Skye. Presently asleep,
and in good health, considering. A new popular African cartoon cast
on his little leg, too. And Father Patrick’s Barry is coming through in
spades, he is. He e-mailed and already has numerous potential families
from his immigration network to give the lad a home, in Ireland, Canada,
or the U.S.”
Gasping in pain from the wound, Skye expelled, “Anything he
needs, anything!”
“Granted, MacIain,” Collins responded, with both captains finally
admitted into the center clinic. “Layla’s son will be raised in love, by
adoptive parents or within my own house as my own blood if God wills.”
Satisfied, the captain relaxed back into the wheelchair. The re-
invigorated Collins instructed Sergeant Ngetti, “Fluids, IV antibiotics,
and knock them both out for at least six hours, as they are wounded:
Ndara in the head, Skye along his left side. I’ll take the first clinic shift
for observation.”
The 6’4” Ngetti informed Collins, “Respectfully, Doctor, no you won’t.
You have a head wound, stitches, and are dehydrated. As a Special Forces

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