Vengeance

83 WASHINGTON, D.C.

It had been a long night as Harrison sat beside Khalila in a waiting room at George Washington University Hospital, the closest Level I trauma center to Alexandria. The surgery addressing the wound to his shoulder had taken barely an hour, and he was none too worse for the wear aside from a dull ache in his shoulder and his left arm in a sling. The hours passed by at an agonizingly slow pace as two teams of doctors attended to Christine’s knife and bullet wounds, plus the savage damage Mixell had done to her face.

Harrison was no stranger to tense situations, and controlling his nerves while on a mission had never been an issue, but his right knee jittered uncontrollably as he awaited the outcome of Christine’s surgery. Khalila said little as she sat beside him, but eventually placed a hand on his knee and pressed down firmly until the jitters subsided.

It was 6 a.m., ten hours after Christine had been wheeled into the operating room, when two doctors entered the waiting room and approached Harrison and Khalila, who rose to greet them and presented their agency IDs. Christine’s parents were deceased and she was an only child with no living relatives, so the hospital had agreed to the agency’s request that Harrison be briefed on Christine’s condition.

The physicians introduced themselves; they were the lead doctors of the two teams that had tended to Christine’s injuries. Norah Aller had led the general surgery effort to treat the wounds in her back and abdomen, while Alex Warren had led the maxillofacial surgery team dealing with her facial injuries. Norah was the first to brief.

“Christine’s general wounds — from the bullets and knife — have been addressed, but there are complications. She suffered significant damage to several vital organs and she also lost a lot of blood, which placed additional stress on her body. More critically, one of the bullets entered her spinal column.”

“Is she…?”

“Her spinal cord is intact,” Norah replied. “However, there was significant tissue damage and the resulting inflammation will put pressure on the spinal column fluid, which could impact her brain. As a result, we’ve placed Christine in a medically induced coma.”

“For how long?”

“It’s hard to predict, Mr. Harrison. We don’t even know if Christine will—” Norah stopped midsentence, pausing for a moment as she considered her words. “We’ve done everything we can, and the rest is up to her. She’s relatively young and in excellent physical shape.”

A lengthy silence followed as Norah let Harrison and Khalila absorb the details of Christine’s condition, then she turned to Alex Warren, who had led the other team of doctors.

“Although not as serious as the wounds and subsequent stress to Christine’s organs,” he began, “the damage to her face was traumatic. However, she was fortunate in some respects. There was no damage to the parotid gland and the knife missed the cervical branch of the facial nerve. But the buccal nerve was severed and the zygomatic muscles were—”

Harrison interrupted. “I don’t understand what you’re saying. Can you explain in plain English?”

Warren nodded. “Basically, several muscles and nerves that control the movement of Christine’s mouth and nose, along with facial sensation, were severely damaged. The muscles have been sutured back together and the prognosis is good. The nerve damage, however, is more serious. Nerve coaptation — suturing severed nerves back together — is a more difficult procedure and the recovery is often not one hundred percent. A ninety percent recovery is probably the best Christine can hope for.”

“A ninety percent recovery — what does that mean?”

“Her speech and facial expressions may be impacted. And then there’s the significant superficial damage. This type of injury can be difficult for someone like Christine to deal with.”

“Why is that?”

“Well,” he answered uneasily, “she was a beautiful woman.”

“She still is.”

Warren nodded slowly. “Of course.”

Norah and Warren asked if Harrison had any other questions, but Harrison had none at the moment. His mind and body felt numb as he grappled with the specter of Christine’s death. Mixell had taken Angie from him, and now Christine’s life hung in the balance.

Harrison watched as the two doctors departed the waiting room. As he stood beside Khalila, the ache in his chest and the emotion threatening to overwhelm him must have been evident on his face, because she pulled him into an embrace.

“I can’t lose her,” he said.

“I know,” Khalila replied, hugging him tightly.

“She’s going to live,” she said. “Just believe.”