Rachelle McCalla - Prince Incognito

Lillian couldn’t leave him. If another blast hit, he’d be done for. She ran forward. “Hurry. You’ve got to get out of here!” The scream of another incoming explosive buried her words, but thankfully, the blast struck farther away. Though it shook the ground beneath them, she felt none of its heat.

The man seemed to find his feet and trotted forward, his expression determined in spite of the blood that marred the left half of his face.

“Can I help you?” Lily asked as he reached her. She stumbled along beside him. “You need to get to a hospital.”

“No.” He stopped, his earnest blue eyes boring into hers. “No hospital. I’ve got to get out of the country. It’s not safe here.” He took another step forward. “Hurry. Don’t let them find me.”

“Don’t let who find you?”

Another distant blast erupted, and the soldier plodded past her, toward her rickshaw that sat at the end of the alley. Lily caught up to him just as he paused next to it.

Again, his eyes met hers. “Help.”

Unsure what he meant, Lily reached for his arm, steadying him as he sagged into the back passenger seat of her tricycle-like rented rickshaw.

She looked at him for only a second, his eyes closed, his body slumped down. From her medical training, Lillian knew the concussive shock waves from explosions could cause tremendous internal injuries, often with no external harm. The damage was likely catching up to him already.

Goaded on by the eruptions behind them, Lily hopped onto the bike and pointed the handlebars downhill. Between the added weight of the soldier behind her and the downward slope of the streets as the city gave way to the sea, she had no trouble getting her bike moving.

The marina was a mere three blocks away, all downhill. Her parents had already said they wanted to cast off that afternoon, but Lillian had begged them to stay long enough for her to watch the motorcade pass by. Her father hadn’t been happy about it, insisting that they should leave before the state dinner. But when she’d pointed out all the other promises he’d broken in the past few weeks, he had reluctantly agreed. She’d promised to return immediately thereafter, and return the rickshaw at the stand at the head of the pier. They could leave immediately.

Since she’d personally run all their errands while they’d been in port in Sardis, renting the bike so she could haul fresh stores of food and water, it had seemed only fair that she be allowed to stay a little longer. And she’d promised they could be gone before the state dinner began.

Now Lillian questioned the wisdom of her decision as the rickshaw picked up speed, careening toward the pier. She laid on the brakes as she blew past the rickshaw rental stand, and just managed to skid to a stop next to her parents’ yacht.

“Lillian!” Her mother, Sandra, gasped when she saw the soldier’s bloody form slumped on the back of her bike.

Her father’s jaw dropped.

But by the time he found his voice to insist that Lily take the soldier right back to where she’d found him, Lillian had already dismounted from the bike. The rail of their yacht bobbed a little higher than the dock, but the bike sat higher still. Lily tipped the rickshaw, and the unconscious soldier keeled toward the cushioned bench that encircled the deck of the yacht.

“Lily, no!” Michael Bardici demanded, rushing forward to stop her, an instant too late.

With a hefty heave, the soldier tumbled gracelessly onto the cushion. Lily hopped onboard after him, rearranging his arms and legs to settle him flat on his back.

“Lily.” Her mother approached, wringing her hands. “Did you see what was going on up there? It’s like a war zone.”

“Mom, please. Can you push the rickshaw back up the pier? We have to get out of town.”

Her mother paused, surprise on her face, then obediently climbed onto the dock and took the bike back up to the rental stand.

Lifting the man’s eyelids to check his pupils for signs of concussion, Lillian listened with one ear to her father’s protests.

“What are you thinking bringing that man onboard? There’s been some sort of violent attack up there, and now you’re getting us mixed up in it. What will your uncle David say?”

Lily focused on her examination and didn’t respond. The man’s pupils were even, with no telltale red streaks that would have indicated his capillaries had burst. A good sign. Hopefully the alleyway had blocked much of the force of the blast, preventing a traumatic concussion. It boded well for the likelihood of minimal internal injuries.

Her father inserted his face in her line of sight. “I know you think you have to rescue every injured creature that crosses your path, but this is going too far. He’s a human being. You can’t take him out of his country—”

“He asked me to take him out of the country.”

“Oh, he did, did he?”

“Yes.” She checked the soldier’s pulse. Strong. “He specifically asked me to help him, to get him out of the country, and to hurry.”

“Did he say anything else?”

She looked her father full in the face. “Don’t let them find me.”

“Who’s he hiding from?” Michael Bardici sputtered. “Did he have something to do with those explosions? He could be a criminal!”

Before Lily could respond, her mother returned. “Let’s do hurry and get out of here,” Sandra Bardici requested. “There are soldiers with guns everywhere. Whatever those explosions were about, I don’t like it. What if they try to lock down the marina?”

Lily felt grateful her mother had so quickly sized up the situation. “She’s right, Dad. We should get moving. Do you need me to help you get under sail, or can I bandage his face?”

“You should do nothing of the sort,” her father protested. “Surely there’s somewhere in the city.” He looked at Sardis beyond the bay, black smoke rising above the limestone buildings, and his protest lost a little power.

“We should get out of the marina while we still can.” Sandra sounded almost frantic.

“Of course we should go.” Michael Bardici faced his wife. “But we can’t take this man with us! We don’t know anything about him. What if he’s dangerous?”

“He looks to be out cold right now. She’s brought him this far. It’s chaos up there—I suppose the local hospital will be overwhelmed. She’s a trained medical professional.”

“She just graduated from veterinary school.”

Sandra took a step closer to her husband and lowered her voice. “She wants to help. This is the first time she’s wanted to do anything medical since…”

Lily heard her mother’s sentence hang in the air, and knew exactly what words she hadn’t spoken. Since she’d failed to save the horses. The painful memory taunted her, but she pushed it away. Thinking about the tragedy in her past wasn’t going to help her now.

Michael Bardici huffed. “Fine. We’ll set sail. But I’ll warn you both—I intend to get rid of this fellow at the first opportunity.” He stomped over and untied the boat.

“Thank you, Dad.” Lily sprinted into the top-level pilothouse and pulled out the first-aid kit, which she had personally assembled in a small suitcase years before, and kept stocked for emergencies.

The unconscious soldier didn’t flinch as she cleaned the wound on his face. To her relief, the abrasions didn’t appear to be deep, though they stretched from his nose to his ear, covering much of his forehead, down to his chin. Still, if she bandaged his face quickly and kept the injuries clean, he’d likely heal with minimal scarring.

Once she had the blood cleaned off and a fresh white bandage wrapped around his head to hold the gauze and batting in place, she pulled out her otoscope and checked his ears, sighing with relief when she saw no sign of blood.