Leon Uris (74 page)

“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.

She sat on the floor and held the bullet up and looked at it and began laughing. All the Druse men started laughing too. Kitty sobbed half hysterically.

“Mussa,” Karen said, “get him back on the bed quickly. Don’t let anything touch that wound.”

Karen helped Kitty to her feet and sat her down in a chair. She pried the bullet from her hands and wiped them clean. The girl moved over to Ari and poured sulfa powder into the wound and laid a bandage over the top of it lightly. Then she sponged Ari down. Kitty remained crumpled and sobbing.

Karen ordered everyone from the room and poured another drink for Kitty and left.

Kitty sipped the brandy and walked over to Ari and felt his pulse. She pried his eyes open and watched his color.

Yes ... he was going to come through all right ...

She laid her head on his chest. “Ari ... Ari ... Ari ... Ari ...” she whispered between sobs.

A
RI REMAINED
in excruciating pain. The medicines failed to arrive. Kitty was unable to leave him for a second. Several times she had to call Mussa for men to keep Ari from thrashing around and endangering the open wound.

Up the hill in the center of the village the dancing and chanting and hilarity continued. The bride, who had been hidden all day, was taken from seclusion. The groom, dressed in a cutaway coat and top hat, mounted a horse and rode to her through a flower-strewn lane flanked with rifle-bearing Druse men.

After the ceremony many of the Jewish visitors, with the children from Gan Dafna, lit a campfire and there were more songs and a
hora
. There was Hebraic dancing to the tambour and flute and the Druse dancers, too, took their turn in the center ring.

Karen remained constantly in the outside room. She came in to spell Kitty for intervals during the long night. Morning found both of them exhausted from the lack of sleep and the prolonged tension. Kitty sat at the edge of the bed and sprang up each time Ari groaned or moved.

By morning the medicines still had not arrived.

“You had better take the children back to Gan Dafna,” Kitty told Mussa. “Is there anyone else here who speaks English?”

“Yes, I will have him stay here.”

“Good. Can you get another bed set up or a couch or something for me to rest on? I’ll have to remain right here for some time.”

“It will be arranged.”

Kitty went into the next room where Karen dozed on a bench. She brushed the girl’s cheek gently. Karen sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Is he all right?”

“No. He is in very bad pain. I want you to go back to Yad El with the children this morning.”

“But, Kitty ...”

“Don’t argue. Tell Dr. Lieberman I have to stay here until I can get things under control.”

“We are supposed to leave Palestine the day after tomorrow.”

Kitty shook her head. “Cancel our flight. We can make new travel arrangements later. I have to stay here until they can get someone else up here to take care of him properly. I don’t know how long it’s going to be.”

Karen embraced Kitty and turned to leave.

“Karen. Get to Safed, will you, and tell Bruce Sutherland where I am. Ask him if he will come to Haifa to meet me. Tell him to stay at the largest hotel. I’ll find it, whatever it is. Have him bring some clothes for me.”

By noon the hundreds of celebrants began drifting away from Daliyat el Karmil. The Druses left for their mountaintop villages and the Jews went back to the
kibbutz
and to Haifa. Mussa took the truckload of children back toward Gan Dafna.

When they were all gone, the Druses relaxed the heavy guard around Ari. The English-speaking Druse stood by in the next room.

Kitty Fremont was alone with him in this strange place. In this first moment of quiet the full impact of these events hit her. She stood over his bed and looked at him.

“God Almighty,” she whispered. “What have I done?” All the months of fighting him, all the carefully built-up resistance, collapsed in that mad second that had sent her rushing to his side. At this moment she feared this power that Ari held over her.

Late in the evening the messenger arrived with medicines from Yagur
kibbutz
. He had been working his way through the mountains and hiding for long periods of time. British patrols were everywhere looking for the wounded from the Acre jail raid.

Kitty quickly administered a liter of plasma to Ari and filled him with penicillin as insurance against the infection that she feared must be inevitable under the circumstances of the operation. She redressed the open wound and injected morphine to ease the murderous pain.

For the next two days and nights Kitty kept Ari under morphine sedation to block off the pain. She watched his progress from minute to minute. The incision was beginning to bind together. There appeared to be no great crisis. Ari was awake only for brief moments, during which he took some nourishment, but when he was awake he was too torpid to realize what was taking place around him. The Druse villagers marveled at Kitty’s nursing efficiency and stamina. The women were particularly pleased with the way she snapped out orders to the men.

By the time Kitty knew Ari was safe, that time was the only requirement, she had become uncertain and filled with anxiety: the question of leaving Gan Dafna was in her mind again.

She pondered again her right to leave the children of Gan Dafna who needed her. Where was the line between professionalism and humanity? And what of Karen? Was Karen coming to America only out of fear of losing Kitty?

Of the thoughts that weighed on Kitty the worst was a factor she could no longer rationalize. Once before she had been drawn into this strange group of people against her will: on Cyprus she had resolved not to work for them—and then she saw Karen. Now, it appeared to be a repetition: on the eve of her departure she was pulled back to Ari. Was this a coincidence or was her fate being shaped by a higher power? As much as her basic common sense resisted the fantastic idea, it kept haunting Kitty. She feared the power of Palestine.

Ari made swift progress under Kitty’s ministrations. He was a remarkable man, Kitty reflected. The pain that he had borne could have killed an ordinary human being. By the end of the fourth day she had reduced the morphine sharply. She had also discontinued the use of penicillin, certain that the wound was healing and would not become infected.

Ari awoke on the fifth morning hungry, eager to shave and clean up, and in a cheerful frame of mind. As Ari emerged in renewed vitality, Kitty went into a shell. She adopted an icy, impersonal, clinical attitude. She snapped orders like a sergeant major, prescribing the next week’s plans as though he were a complete stranger.

“I hope by the end of this week to have you completely off drugs. I want you to start exercising the leg and give it as much motion as possible. However, you must be very careful about putting too much strain on the incision. It isn’t stitched.”

“How long before I’ll be able to walk?”

“I can’t say without an X ray. I am inclined to think the bone was just cracked and not chipped. If there was a chip you would still be in severe pain. However, I can safely say that you aren’t going anywhere for at least a month.”

Ari whistled under his breath as she pulled the sheet up around him.

“I’m going out for a walk,” she said. “I’ll be back in a half hour.”

“Kitty. Just a moment. I ... uh ... look, you’ve been very kind. You’ve watched over me like an angel. Since this morning you have seemed angry. Is there something wrong? Have I done something?”

“I’m tired, I’m worn out. I’ve been up for five nights. I’m sorry I can’t do a song and dance for you.”

“That’s not it. There’s something more. You’re sorry you came here, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am,” she said softly.

“Do you hate me?”