Angel Of The Morning Calm (3)
Steven L Howard

 

She jumped up and down screaming and forcing out words and noises between her wheezes.

Byron’s legs tingled from the adrenaline now beginning to flow.

She gestured wildly and tried to pull him along.

He pulled back, fearful of her maniacal state.

She looked at him and jumped up and down – tears streaming down her face. “Pali, Pali!” she pleaded with him, but he was still set back by her wild behavior.

She spoke rapidly through sobs.

He understood nothing.

Suddenly, the landlady came between them. Wide eyed, she questioned this newly appeared fury of human panic.

Through sobs and wheezes, Miss Gunn managed a few strained and very rapid sentences to the landlady.

“Who?” Byron heard the landlady ask in Korean.

“Yi Ok Sun,” Miss Gunn answered back.

Byron looked questioningly at the landlady. He definitely recognized the full Korean name of Miss Lee.

The landlady’s head jerked over to look at him.

“Pali pali ga!” she shouted pushing him in the direction Miss Gunn was trying to take him.

Recognizing the words for “Hurry go” from the land lady he yielded to Miss Gunn’s tugs.

Miss Gunn stood barely 5’2” in height, and had the tiniest of builds, but she was a veritable powerhouse now. She pulled Byron first, but then let go and began running straight ahead, leading the way. Her backless shoes slapped the heel of her feet with every step.

Byron wondered how anyone could run in such things. But run she did at such a pace that she pushed the very limits of Byron’s military conditioning. With every step she wheezed or hinted at a sob - sometimes he was not sure which – but she never slowed.

She turned into the alley that went along the side of the restaurant where she and Ok Sun worked.

Byron followed. He had never gone down this path before. He had only entered the front door of the restaurant.

Miss Gunn grabbed the door at the side of the building, and swung it fully open. She stood to the side, tears streaming down her exhausted face gesturing for Byron to enter the door.

Byron passed and entered the door.

Miss Gunn fell to her knees and elbows onto the concrete alleyway behind him wheezing for every breath, and fighting the sobs on every exhale. Her job was now finished, and she was thoroughly spent.

Inside the door, a pair of strong hands grabbed Byron by the shoulders, and shoved him through the door to the residence of the restaurant proprietor.

Byron gasped at the first site inside. As he was about to exhale the gasp, his eyes moved, and he gasped again. Again and again he gasped – each time unable to exhale the previous breath as his eyes with from scarlet puddle to scarlet pool on the dull yellow linoleum floor of the room into which he had been pushed.

Near the wall on the far side of the room, ajuma sat with Ok Sun’s head in her lap. A trash can containing scores of blood soaked paper towels sat just to her left.

Ok Sun, still terrified, sobbed. Her shirt was spattered, splotched, and widely stained with blood.

Ajuma removed the blood soaked paper towl from the left side of Ok Sun’s neck and threw it in the trash can before her.

The horror that had just begun to take root in Byron gripped his very soul.

Ok Sun had two gashes on the side of her neck. The lower gash was long - extending from just above her shoulder on the back of her neck upward and forward to the center of the side of her neck. About two inches higher, the upper wound displayed itself as a 3 cornered gash in the shape of a 7. From the lower gash blood oozed. From the upper gash blood rushed with every sob, and receded with every wheezing gasp. The upper gash was much deeper with even the inside corner of the 7 turned under revealing the raw flesh on the opposite side.

He watched as ajuma took a clean paper towl from the roll at her side, and put it on the wound.

“She doesn’t know how to stop bleeding,” he said to himself. “But, I don’t know if that kind of bleeding can be stopped.”

Horror gave way to panic within him.

He breathed rapidly, but now more from what he saw than from the run he had just completed.

“Get it together!” The words were a mumble under his breath, but a shout in his head.

A Struggle began inside him. His seniors had advised him to never get involved in an injury with a local. They had told him he could be charged, and would never get a fair trial even if all he was trying to do was help. But this was not just anybody – this was the one he had promised to care for as he would his sister. This was someone from whom he could not walk away.

Then came the pure desperation.

She was hurt – badly. She cried, but in fear rather than in pain. She needed him, and he knew that, but what could he do?

He looked again and the puddles of scarlet liquid in the floor. He had no experience with this type of blood loss. How much blood could a person lose and still live? But, she was still breathing – still crying. There was still hope for her.

Fear paralyzed his mind. It was not a fear for himself and not a fear he could pinpoint, but a terrible, and disabling fear.

What if she died? What if he couldn’t help her? What if he didn’t really know what to do? What would happen if he did nothing?

A battle raged in his mind. Mentally he screamed from one side to the other. On one side the voice of panic held him. From the other side the voices screamed: “It’s not about you! ... She needs you! Now! ... Get it together! … Why can’t you get it together and actually do something?!”

Straining as though lifting with his mind, he began to forcibly push the fear and panic out of the seat of power.

“Ajuma,” He said getting to his knees before her and Ok Sun.

Seeing him kneel, the ajuma moved her hands, and gave him control.

Still straining to stay in control of his emotions, he began to think semi-audibly. He could remember his military first aid, and here was where that training was needed.

“Pressure,” he said.

He tore another paper towel off the roll, and placed it over the now blood soaked paper towel that he had watched ajuma place there only moments before.

“Elevate the wound above her heart,” He mumbled. “I hope that means wounds to the neck too.”

Forcing himself to breathe slower and to sound calm he spoke directly to her. “Miss Lee.”

She looked up at him. Seeing him in front of her she quieted almost immediately. Deeply, she gazed into his eyes as he continued.

“I need to sit you up,” he said slowly and softly. “We need the cuts to be higher.”

Slowly, and gently, he sat her up, and reclined her against the teak colored wardrobe behind her.

Her eyes never left his. She gazed as if mesmerized.

“No crying, and no fear,” he spoke inside his head as he noticed her fixed gaze. “She’s looking at you to see if she’s going to make it.”

Her crying stilled.

Still straining to hold his fear and panic in check, he searched for words to speak to the ajuma and ajoshi.

There was only so much that his mind could do, and now, in its stretched state, words of a foreign language were very difficult to find.

“Hospital,” he thought to himself, careful to not let his growing frustration show to the eyes he knew were still fixed on his. “I know that word….WHAT IS IT?!”

He turned to ajoshi. “Pyeong won,” he said.

“Ah, pyeong won,” ajoshi repeated. He began to speak rapidly and motion as if giving directions.

Byron shook his head. He didn’t know the word he needed – he had never learned this one. Maybe it was the same as in English.”

“Ambulance,” he said interrupting ajoshi. “Ambulance.”

Ajoshi and ajuma looked blankly at each other, then back at Byron.

“Uuuh …,” Byron strained. What was his next option if ambulance could not be understood?

“Taxi?” Byron asked.

“Ah, taekshi,” ajoshi said now understanding Byron’s next step. He said something that Byron did not understand, quickly rose, and exited through the back door.

Byron turned his attention Ok Sun.

“You’re going to be OK,” he assured her. “We’re going to get you fixed back up.”

Her crying was now only an occasional sniffle. She said nothing, but her eyes stayed firmly attached to Byron’s.

Ajuma tapped Byron on the shoulder.

He looked to her.

She began speaking on and on, gesturing and emphasizing with guttural sounds and intense expressions. It was a story without understanding, but a story that continued - accompanied only by the occasional sniffle from Ok Sun.

Ajoshi burst through the door.

“Taekshi!” he exclaimed motioning urgently with an underhanded wave.

Byron turned back to Ok Sun. “Carrying is going to be a trick,” he thought to himself. How could he keep pressure on the wounds while transporting her?

He took her hand in his, and brought it to the paper towels he held against the side of her neck.

“I’m going to carry you,” he said slowly and gently to her. “So I need you to hold this. Can you do that?”

Ok Sun did not answer, but kept her hand firmly against the make-shift bandage.

Byron reached gently beneath her legs and shoulders. She offered neither help nor resistance, but kept her bandage in place, and her eyes fixed on Byron’s.

Byron straightened to fully upright cradling Ok Sun in his arms. With urgency he carried his beautiful, but broken friend to the door, and out into the chilly evening.

Miss Gunn, now breathing easier after her gutsy rescue run spoke words through tears as Miss Lee passed by in Byron’s arms.

Byron did not stop to acknowledge her.

Ajoshi opened the back door to the lime green taxi which waited near the door.

With scarcely a strain, Byron gently sat the delicately framed young lady inside, then entered the taxi beside her.

The restaurant ajoshi spoke rapidly to the taxi driver. He handed the driver a bill and waved to him.

“Pali, pali!” Byron heard him exclaim as the taxi pulled away.

This taxi ride was even wilder than normal. The driver wove in and out of traffic in the night and paid attention to signals only in deciding whether or not his horn was needed to pass through.

All Byron noticed was the fading flower beside him. Her breath was now becoming shallower, and was occasionally accompanied by a slight whimper. Her eyelids became heavier, and heavier until they no longer opened.

“Oh, God, no!” Byron pleaded. “Don’t take her now.”

The tears that he had been thus far able to hold back began to force their way to his eyes. “This is my only friend. Please don’t take her now!” He repeated.

He checked her breath. She was still breathing, but lightly and rapidly.

The taxi stopped near the entrance of a brown painted concrete building not much larger than a large American house.

Byron wiped his eyes and quickly got out. As gently as possible, he removed Miss Lee from the back seat. He brought her to a position where her weight rested on her posterior which he had placed on his thigh. His left arm was around her shoulders to balance her limp body on him. His right arm circled around her neck and held the now blood soaked paper towel she had once held in place.

“Ajoshi,” Byron called to the taxi driver.

The taxi driver looked to him.

“Towa chuseyo,” Byron said motioning to Miss Lee’s neck with his head.

The taxi driver got out of his cab and answered Byron’s plea for help.

Byron pointed to the bandages on Ok Sun’s neck.

The taxi driver reached and held the pressure on the bandages.

Byron slid his now free right arm beneath Ok Sun’s legs and stood up cradling her once again in his arms.

The taxi driver continued to hold the bandages in place.

Byron carried her through the front door of the building to which they had driven.

Two ladies dressed in white dresses and in white nurses caps with red crosses on them came forward to meet this threesome at the door.

The taxi driver exchanged a quick word with them.

They hastened through a door beckoning them to follow.

Through this door was a single large bay which encompassed the rest of the building. Cot sized stainless steel tables were lined up on each side of the room. Some of these tables were covered by bed linens. Curtains hung along the walls with sliding fixtures such that the curtains could be drawn around individual beds.

One of the nurses walked to one of these covered stainless steel beds and motioned to them to deposit their load there.

Byron gently laid Ok Sun’s limp body there, careful to not let her head flop to either side.

The Nurses quickly moved in, and removed the paper towel to look. One spoke to the other who quickly exited. The first nurse continued to hold the bandage.

The taxi driver patted Byron on the shoulder, and motioned to let Byron know that he was now leaving.

“Kamsa hamnida,” Byron thanked him.

A young man entered the area where Ok Sun lay. He spoke with the nurse there then checked the wound for himself. He nodded then spoke with the nurse again.

The nurse hurried off, and returned with a large curved needle and suture.

Byron watched as they worked to scrub the area around the wounds, and then to stitch up first the three cornered gash, then the lower cut.

As he finished, the young doctor turned to Byron and spoke, “Why did you bring her here?”

“It’s where her boss sent her,” Byron answered. “I didn’t know where to send her.”

“She is your wife?”

“No. She is a friend.”

The doctor’s expression changed to show almost a degree of disgust.

“She cannot stay here,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“I can suture her. We can bandage her. This is not much money. But American men’s girls do not have money. She cannot stay here.”

“How much will it be?” Byron asked incredulously. “I’ll pay if I have to.”

“No!” the doctor insisted. “American military is not supposed to come here. She cannot stay here.”

Byron’s irritation began both to grow and to show.

“She’s not even frickin conscious!” he said demandingly. “You’re telling me she has to leave when she’s not even conscious?”

“She cannot pay,” the doctor said. “We are finished now. Now you take her.”

“Wait just a minute!” Byron said as the doctor turned to leave. “How am I supposed to take care of her? All I know is that she’s lost a lot of blood and she’s not conscious!”

“Now I think she is in shock,” the doctor said callously. “You take her.”

Byron’s frustration turned to rage. “I can’t take care of her like this!” he yelled.

“She is not my responsibility,” the doctor replied, raising his voice to match Byron’s.

Byron clenched his fist. The doctor’s smug little mouth would be an easy target.

The doctor did not back down.

“American military is not supposed to come here,” he said noting Byron’s threatening stance. “If I call police, you have big trouble, and still she cannot stay here.”

Byron looked back at Ok Sun lying as if lifeless on the table.

“You are likee my brother,” He heard her words echo in his mind. “I am likee you sister.” She had upheld her part of the bargain when he needed her just a little. She now needed him desperately.

He looked back at the doctor. Now even more he wanted to belt this cocky little man squarely in the mouth.

He looked back at Ok Sun. If he actually hit this doctor, and was taken away, what would happen to her? Would she just be dumped on the street in front of the hospital? He wished he knew the customs well enough to have some idea what might happen.

He looked back to the doctor, almost ready to let fly, but no…

He looked back to Miss Lee once more. He could not leave her in uncertainty. His best chance of helping her was to stay with her.

His fist still clenched and ready for deployment, Byron decided to gather her and go. He stepped first between the door and the doctor then turned toward Ok Sun. He purposely took a path that allowed him to roughly nudge the doctor out of the way as he went. He was backing down, but he wanted it clear that he did it for his friend, and not because he was scared of this arrogant little man.

Byron checked Ok Sun. She was still breathing – perhaps breathing easier than when he brought her in.

Gently, he moved his arms beneath her shoulders and legs, and stood up cradling her in his arms again. He carried her out the front door of the hospital to catch a taxi and take her home.

* * * *

The land lady struggled in the dark to find the keyhole in Miss Lee’s apartment. Upon succeeding, she opened the door, and turned to Byron – still cradling Ok Sun in his arms.

Byron entered, careful to remove his shoes by pulling one heel with the opposite toe. Gently he laid Ok Sun onto the neatly prepared bed on the far side of room from the door.

He straightened back noticing now how badly his shoulders and biceps hurt from the load he had been carrying. She was not heavy – maybe 100 pounds – but even such a small person becomes a load that strains muscles in just a short time.

The land lady gave the key to Byron, She bobbed her head, gave a Korean farewell, and left.

Byron fumbled with the little kerosene stove in Ok Sun’s kitchen. Finally getting it lit, he adjusting the wick to the height of fire that was what he thought was appropriate.

He set a pan of water onto the burner.

Byron examined Ok Sun’s outer appearance. Blood was caked in her hair – that needed to be washed out. There was blood in her clothes as well, but he was not comfortable with the idea of trying to undress her or clean her in any way that might embarrass her. She might awaken soon, and if so, then he hoped she would be able to change her clothes without his help.

He felt the water on the stove. It was now just above room temperature.

He took it off the stove. Placing it beside her bed, he began first wiping her hair with towels he dampened in the water. Seeing there was much more blood in her satin black hair than he had first thought, he gently positioned her above the water pan and rinsed her blood caked hair.

One eye opened slightly. Byron stopped, wondering if she could see him. She seemed to smile ever so slightly, but … maybe he was hoping too much.

Byron dried her hair, and the part of her neck and face he had washed. He put another clean towel on the head of her bed, and gently placed her on it.

He sat, and looked into her face. Her color was pale – very pale.
 
“How much blood did you lose?” Byron said softly, not really expecting an answer. “Surely it wasn’t as much as it looked like when I went there. The floor was flat, so surely the puddles didn’t have as much blood as I thought when I saw it.”

He placed his hand near her mouth. Her breath was still light and rapid.

“If she doesn’t survive,” He thought to himself. “I’m not going to have anybody I can trust to be a witness for me. If I’m blamed for her death, then I’m as good as dead.”

He struggled to push the thoughts down. As much as he’d like to believe that this thought meant nothing, it still occupied the back of his mind. He looked at her once more, and checked her breathing again. It wouldn’t matter … he would stay with her even if it meant risk. He would care for her just like he would want his sister cared for, and nothing would deter him.

“Sister?” he thought to himself. That may work as a code of sexual conduct, but at this point he did not need anything familiar to motivate him to care for this lady.

A voice called from outside the house.

Byron sprang to the door.

Miss Gunn stood there with a tray of steaming kettles and bowls.

She spoke as she brought them in as if expecting Byron to understand – he didn’t.

She sat the tray down next to Ok Sun’s bed. She turned her attention to Ok Sun and spoke for almost a minute. Finally, she patted Ok Sun on the shoulder, and turned to Byron. She pointed to the bowls on the tray she brought, and made a motion as bringing a spoon to her mouth several times. She finished her gesture by pointing to Byron, and Ok Sun.

Byron nodded understandingly.

 

 

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Copyright © 2004 Steven L Howard
Published on the World Wide Web by "www.storymania.com"