Burning Angels

He thrust his head and shoulders through the breech, grabbed a few lungfuls of oxygen, and dived again. As he kicked deep, he noticed that Narov’s blade was gone from his grasp. He would worry about that later… if he ever got out of this alive.

He struck out in the direction of his own life raft. The gunmen in the water might well have seen him, but their thoughts would be all for their own survival now. There would be life vests in their stricken craft, and even now they would be trying to save themselves. Jaeger would leave them to the sea and the sharks. He was done here. He needed to get away, and get Narov safe.

Minutes later, Jaeger heaved his sodden form into the Airlander’s life raft. As he lay back, panting exhaustedly, he saw Narov try to rouse herself so she could take up the oars, and he had to physically restrain her from doing so.

He got in position and began to row, heading away from the carnage and for the coastline. As he worked at the oars, he glanced at Narov. She was overcome with exhaustion, the shock kicking in big time now. He needed her to remain conscious, to keep rehydrating and to stay warm, and they would both need energy as the adrenalin began to wear off.

‘See what’s in the stores. The emergency rations. We’ve got a long row ahead and you need to keep drinking and to eat. I’ll do the work, but only if you promise to live.’

‘I promise,’ Narov murmured, her voice sounding close to delirious. She reached to investigate with her one good arm. ‘After all, you came back for me.’

Jaeger shrugged. ‘You’re on my crew.’

‘You had your wife on that aircraft — dying. Me in the sea — dying. You came back for me.’

‘My wife has got a team of medics caring for her. As for you… well, we’re a honeymooning couple, remember?’

She smiled absent mindedly. ‘Schwachkopf.’

Jaeger needed to keep her talking and to keep her focused. ‘How’s the pain? The shoulder?’

Narov tried to shrug. The movement made her grimace. ‘I’ll live.’

Good for you, Jaeger thought. Unyielding, blunt and honest to the end.

‘Better sit back and enjoy the ride then, while I row you home.’

93

Five weeks had passed since Jaeger had paddled the Airlander’s life raft to shore and got Narov to the nearest hospital. It had taken him to the edge of his endurance and had seemed to age him. At least that was what Narov had said.

He reached for a surgical mask, slotting it over his mouth and nose, doing the same for the diminutive figure standing beside him. Over the past few weeks he’d spent barely a day apart from Simon Chucks Bello, and the two of them had grown close.

It was almost as if the kid who had saved the world had become like a second son to him.

Jaeger glanced up. Spotted someone. Smiled. ‘Ah, great. You’re here.’

The man in the white surgical suit, Dr Arman Hanedi, shrugged. ‘Over the past few weeks, when have I not been here? It’s been a little busy… I think I have forgotten what my wife and children look like.’

Jaeger smiled. He got on well with Ruth and Luke’s doctor, and over time he’d learned a little of his story. Hanedi was originally from Syria. He’d come to the UK as a child in the first wave of refugees, back in the 1980s.

He’d got himself a good education and had gone on to rise through the ranks of the medical profession, which was no small achievement. He clearly loved his chosen field, which was a bonus, for during the last few weeks he’d had his work cut out, combating the world’s most fearsome epidemic.

‘So she’s pulled through? She’s conscious?’ Jaeger prompted.

‘She is. She came round thirty minutes ago. Your wife is made of incredibly strong stuff. That long an exposure to such a virus — to survive it… it’s little short of a miracle.’

‘And Luke? Did he sleep better last night?’

‘Well, the son is rather like the father, I suspect. A born survivor.’ Hanedi ruffled Simon Bello’s hair. ‘So, little chap, are you ready to say hello to another of the thousands that you have saved?’

The kid blushed. He’d found the media attention hard to deal with, to put it mildly. It all felt so over the top. All he’d done was donate a few drops of blood.

‘Sure, but Jaeger did the hard bit. I didn’t do shit.’ Simon glanced at Jaeger a little sheepishly. Jaeger had been trying to get him to curtail the language, not always successfully.

They all laughed. ‘Call it teamwork,’ Hanedi suggested modestly.

They pushed through double doors. A figure was propped up on pillows. A mass of thick dark hair; fine, almost elfin features; plus those huge sea-green eyes, flecked with specks of gold. Were they more green than blue, or more blue than green? Jaeger never had been quite able to decide; they seemed to constantly change, both with the light and with her moods.