Chapter 12

Posted: August 27, 2006 - 09:44:42 amUpdated: August 27, 2006 - 07:30:50 pm?

I stepped toward the man and he backed up a few paces.

"What goes on here is the business of the wives of Hassan and none of yours," I said, my voice flat and menacing.

His eyebrows jogged up and down and his face became redder.

"I am al Hassan so it is my business, now get off my property," he screamed, spittle flying from his mouth.

I regarded him coldly, resisting the urge to throttle him for all the evil he had perpetrated.

"No you are not Hassan, you are Fayez bin Faisal, the lying, conniving Palestinian with a family in Jordan. Go back to your other life Faisal, you no longer have any business here," I said, the last with the vehemence and revulsion I felt for him.

He backed up another couple of steps, seemingly driven back by the fury in my voice. Fatima moved up to stand at my side. I guess she wanted to extract her own revenge, because in a voice laced with venomous loathing, she let him have it as she clung to my arm.

"Yes, it is time for you to leave you lying Shaitan (Satan) go back to your Jordanian sharmuta (whore) because we have a real man for a husband now," she spat out.

Hassan/Faisal glowered at us, but spun around as if to walk away. I started to follow him when he spun around with a small pistol in his hand.

We were all frozen for a second, just long enough for him to scream. "It is you who are the sharmuta, barren, faithless tramp."

Too late, I lunged towards him; the pistol went off with a report that seemed much too loud for its size. He was able to fire one more shot before I reached him; I felt the white-hot heat of the bullet plow a furrow along the left side of my head, right above my ear. That shot was his last official act, as I grabbed him and spun him around. I clamped him in a rear stranglehold take down and pulled him backwards. His neck snapped as we hit the ground.

I stood up and wiped at the blood running down the side of my head. I looked around when I heard a keening wail that penetrated the loud ringing in my ears. When I turned around, I experienced a moment of vertigo as I saw Fatima lying on the ground with Kalila hovering over her. The high-pitched, eerie wailing was coming from Kalila. I pushed her aside gently and knelt by Fatima's side.

I worked the graveyard shift in the Emergency Room back home for eight days of every month, plus I had been a combat medic, so I was familiar with gunshot wounds. Even before I started tearing off Fatima's abaya I knew her wound was bad. She was wounded in the lower right chest and her breath whistled through the hole in the classic sucking chest wound manner.

She was looking at me, her eyes filled with that fearful look I had seem hundreds of times in the ER and on the battlefield. Her lips were flecked with bloody saliva. I gave her my most professional reassuring smile and patted her hand.

"You are going to be fine, Honey, just breath as slowly as you can. I'll make it easier to catch your breath in a few seconds." I turned to Kalila. "Looks like you are going to start your nurses training earlier than we thought. Calm yourself and find me a few of the bags you used for the hashish resin."

Kalila took a couple of deep breaths, then scurried over to one of the long potting tables. As soon as she jumped up, the greenhouse door banged open and Basheera burst in with her AK at the ready.

"Safe your weapon, Basheera, and come here, I need your help," I called out loudly.

Tahani rushed in with the AKM at the sound of my voice. Both of them were shocked at seeing Hassan, his face set in a death mask rictus, lying on the floor. Tahani looked the most squeamish, so I sent her for Jamilah and all my medical supplies. I had Basheera kneel down and help me finish ripping open Fatima's abaya.

When we had Fatima naked to the waist, I checked the entrance wound below and to the right of her breast then gently rolled her over. She groaned at being moved, but it couldn't be avoided. I heaved a sigh of relief at the sight of the exit wound in her side, an inch from her back. Fatima was lucky from the standpoint of the trajectory of the projectile, but an open chest wound was a potentially fatal injury, regardless. The .32 caliber copper jacketed round had held together as it passed between her ribs, front and side. At least she was spared the pain of me digging out the bullet.

Kalila arrived with a stack of the heavy-duty plastic storage bags. I handed one to Basheera and showed her how to hold it over the exit wound to make the bullet hole airtight. I did the same on the front wound holding the plastic in place with my hand, so that her chest would be temporarily sealed. The hiss of air entering her lungs stopped and Fatima's breathing leveled out some, as she did not feel so desperate for air. Jamilah came running in then, carrying my small aid kit, surgical set and baggie of meds.

I had Basheera remove her plastic and quickly wiped the wound with a clean piece of gauze. After a quick visual inspection, I cut one of the plastic bags into a couple of four-inch squares, using my bandage scissors. Basheera held the new seal in place as I taped it off with waterproof adhesive tape. We repeated the process to the front wound, except that I only taped off three sides of the seal. When Fatima breathed in, the untapped side allowed her inflating lung to push air out of her chest cavity, when she exhaled the bag sealed to her chest preventing air from reentering her chest. The more air that was pushed out of her chest cavity the more her lung could reinflate. I kept reassuring Fatima, trying to keep my voice soft. It was hard doing that, because I could barely hear from my left ear and my head was ringing.

Fatima seemed better now that her lung was sealed back up. I knew she was in some moderate pain, but I couldn't give her anything for it yet. I rolled her gently onto her injured side, so her good lung could work freely, then turned towards Basheera. I told her what we needed to make a stretcher. She quickly dispatched Kalila for blankets, while she went for some six-foot sections of pipe. I was turning back towards Fatima when my world grew black around the edges. I fought to stay conscious as Jamilah tried to steady me.

"You are hurt badly also, Neeko, there is much blood on your head and neck," she said worriedly.

I gulped a couple of calming breaths; I knew I was more in shock than injured.

"It is not as bad as it looks, Jamilah. When I have finished treating Fatima, I will have you tend to it."

I held Fatima's hand and explained what I had done so far and what else I needed to do. She smiled weakly and nodded her understanding.

"I am not those things Hassan called me, Neeko," she said, her voice thin and reedy. "I would never be unfaithful, and even now, your child grows within me."

Fatima's revelation would have been great news at any other time but now. Although the bullet wound was nowhere near her womb, the shock of the injury might cause her to spontaneously miscarry. I squeezed her hand again.

"That's wonderful, Fatima, I am very happy. Now you have two reasons to do as I say so you can get well."

Tahani arrived then with an armful of blankets. Basheera and I quickly fashioned an expedient litter, while Jamilah covered Fatima with another blanket. We soon had Fatima on the stretcher; Tahani and I took one end, Kalila and Jamilah the other. We carefully maneuvered towards the house, while Basheera stayed behind to deal with Hassan's body. I felt badly for leaving her with that gruesome chore, but she insisted on doing it. I think for her, it was actually cleansing to be able to finally put Hassan to rest.

We hauled Fatima to the house and set her up in the large room that had been Hassan's bedroom. We made her as comfortable as we could, and I gave her a couple of ibuprofen for her pain. Tahani and Adara stayed with Fatima while I went to the bathroom to check myself out in the mirror. Jamilah, Kalila and most surprisingly, Zahrah came with me, all clucking around like mother hens. As I stood there in front of the mirror, it struck me again how odd that in a house with seven women, there was only the one small mirror.

Jamilah and Kalila wet washcloths with warm water and gently cleaned up my face. I stripped off my shirt so they could get me clean. The wound was about three eights of an inch wide and three inches long. It started right before and above my ear and ran back at a slight upward angle. The bleeding had mostly stopped and there wasn't much more we could do for it right now. I had Jamilah put some Neosporin on the cut and cover it with gauze before wrapping it turban style with cloth strips Zahrah found.

When I was together as I could get, I sent Jamilah out to get me a couple of aspirin. Her mission was contrived so I could talk to the sisters.

"I am sorry for what I had to do to your father, but he left me no choice. I believe he would have killed us all to keep his secrets," I said.

Kalila laid her hand on my cheek. "He was already dead to us, Neeko. His coming back would have been Shaitan rising from hell. You were foolishly brave, my husband, to attack an armed man to save us."

I turned to Zahrah, relieved that at least my wife was okay with what I'd done.

"And you, Zahrah, what are your feelings about this?"

"I have only loathing for him, I did not wish him dead, but I will not mourn his death. His only concern for either of us was the dowry we might bring him." She said angrily.

I pulled both of them into my arms. Zahrah accepted my embrace as readily as her sister.

"Zahrah, you are a free woman, I will support whatever you decide to do with your life. You are not obligated to me in any manner, I will make that clear to Basheera tonight," I said.

Zahrah thanked me and said she had much thinking to do before she made any decisions about her future. I meant what I'd said from the bottom of my heart, I cared enough for her to let her go.

After my talk with Kalila and Zahrah, I went back in to sit with Fatima. Tahani was already there, holding her hand, and Kalila was waiting to help me. I was in a quandary as to the next action I should take. The seals I placed over the wound were already allowing Fatima's lung to reinflate. I could tell that simply by watching her chest rise and fall. The size of Fatima's breast made them a perfect gauge; I simply compared how high the nipple on her injured side rose compared to the uninjured side. So with the seals, I had taken care of pneumothorax (air in the chest cavity) now my concern was blood in the chest cavity (hemothorax) along with infection.

It was much harder to check for hemothorax without medical equipment I didn't have access to. Moderate hemothorax required a chest tube, a special tube with a one-way valve at the end that is inserted into the chest cavity. I didn't have a chest tube, but could make one of sorts if necessary, but that presented an entirely new set of challenges. In the end, I decided that the best I could do was to keep a close watch on her and if her breathing became labored again I would fashion the chest tube.

I cut an amoxicillin tablet into three pieces and gave one piece to Fatima. She was able to take the pill and a sip of water by only raising her head slightly. I made sure I had an epinephrine injector and some Benadryl handy, then nervously waited an hour to see if Fatima was allergic to penicillin. I was frustrated that I had to practice field medicine on my wife. Especially since all a field medic was supposed to do was stabilize a patient and evacuate them to the rear as soon as possible. I didn't have the luxury of being able to medivac Fatima, as the nearest medical facilities were fifty miles away through unstable territory.

As I waited to see if the amoxicillin caused a reaction, I asked Fatima about being pregnant. She said she was certain she was with child after having missed her menses. She told me that she was waiting for another cycle to pass before she made the announcement. Basheera returned from her unpleasant chore and fussed over both Fatima and me. Hassan's return had deeply affected all my wives; he had effectively destroyed the peace of mind they had built up over the last two months. I took Basheera aside to talk to her.

"Basheera, Hassan's return was a big shock to us all, but he has been dealt with and we know we are safe from him in the future. We can't dwell on his unpleasant visit; instead, we need to keep moving forward towards our goals. If Fatima is not bleeding inside, I expect her to recover quickly. In an hour or two, I will stitch the wound on her side closed. In a few days, I will close the one on her chest. She will need to take it easy, but I am confident she will be back on her feet in four or five days."

Basheera heaved a huge sigh of relief at my prognosis for Fatima.

"Allah be praised. I will inform my sister wives of this now. Neeko, I found over one thousand Jordanian dinar in the small truck he was driving. He also had the papers in his briefcase, including the deed for this land. In the back of his truck are many boxes of explosives. I moved the truck behind the date grove for our safety."

I nodded; it figured that Hassan would be smuggling explosives for his buddy and potential son-in-law Sheik Omar. I felt even less badly about killing that weasel; the entire universe had benefited from Hassan's demise. Basheera laid her hand tenderly against my cheek. It was the same gesture that Kalila used in the bathroom just minutes ago.

"Kalila said you attacked Hassan with your bare hands and killed him, even though he was armed and shooting at you. Allah was protecting you, Habib, because you are protecting us. Allah made you Azra'il (the Angel of Death) to send the Shaitan Hassan to his master Iblis (the primary devil of Islam)."

"You give me too much credit, Sheba, I was nothing more than a frightened man, trying to protect his family," I replied.

She smiled and stroked my face again. "Regardless the reason, My Husband, you did what you did. Is it not strange to you, Habib, that we all share so much love after such a short time? I think Allah brought you here for your good as well as ours. In Islam, Allah decides who will enter heaven from among the Ahl al- Kitâb (People of the Book — any religion that traces its roots to Abraham). I am shamed for forgetting that when we found you in the desert. If Allah can decide if you enter heaven he can decide to put us here for each other."

I wasn't about to argue against her faith or her logic. Instead, I kissed her and asked if I could have a glass of water to wash down a couple of Goody's Headache Powders. I never recommend Goody's to my patients because you need a cast iron stomach to take them, but two of those powders are all it has ever taken to kick the ass of any headache I've ever had. Basheera brought me the water and watched with interest as I opened a couple of the wax paper envelopes and poured them into my mouth. The things tasted like crap, but my head was throbbing enough to make me ignore their bitterness. I playfully swatted at Basheera's butt when she laughed at the faces I made. Even Fatima smiled at my antics. Basheera sat down and had me put my head in her lap, while I waited for Fatima's hour to pass. Having Basheera play with my hair was probably as good a headache cure as the Goody's.

I waited a little over an hour to see if Fatima would have an allergic reaction to the Amoxicillin; when she didn't I gave her the rest of the pill and wrote the time on a piece of paper Kalila had given me. I wasn't relishing my next task, but I couldn't put it off any longer. I needed to clean out the exit wound in Fatima's side and then sew it shut. I didn't have any local anesthetic, so this was going to be painful for Fatima. In desperation, I asked Jamilah if they had any type of numbing medicine. She in turn asked Kalila, who thought for a minute and dashed to the bathroom. She returned in less than a minute with a tube of lidocaine gel. The product was thankfully made in Great Britain so it had an English as well as Arabic label. I checked the ingredients and was delighted that it was a fifteen percent solution.

I rolled out the minor surgery kit, set a number ten disposable blade on the scalpel and prepared a suture set. I rolled her onto her good side and pulled off the seal we'd applied to her side. I was very pleased that there was only a small amount of blood on the seal; that indicated that hemothorax wasn't a problem right now. I applied the lidocaine quickly then slapped the seal back in place; Kalila held the seal while the numbing gel took effect. I opened a three pack of betadine swabsticks.

"This is going to hurt little mother, but we must make sure the wound is clean before I close it up," I said to Fatima.

She nodded and gave me a wan smile. I motioned to Kalila to remove the seal, then quickly cleaned in and around the wound with the betadine. Fatima was a rock through the whole ordeal; she grimaced, but didn't flinch or make a sound. Basheera would have said that it was once more Allah's will that the bullet chose the path that it did, because it had hit no bones going in or coming out. Because the projectile hadn't hit bone, it had not distorted from its original shape; it was a miraculously clean and small exit wound.

As soon as I had the wound clean, I grabbed the forceps, holding the half-circle needle I'd threaded with 2-0 braided nylon suture, and sewed her up. I used the smallest stitches I could make, so the scar would be minimal. I put the seal back in place to make sure the wound stayed airtight. The entire procedure took fewer than five minutes. We gently rolled Fatima back on her injured side so she could rest and recover. I made sure that the front seal was still acting as a one-way valve. Her lung had partially collapsed again, but I was confident that it would reinflate easier this time around.

I stayed with Fatima for the next three days, keeping a constant vigil. At least two of my wives were always with me. Zahrah even took a shift with her sister. She was also interested in the medical training I was giving Kalila. My wives and Zahrah fussed over me as much as I fussed over Fatima. I ended up with a jagged scar on the side of my head, but thankfully, my longer hair covered it. Fatima healed quickly with no complications and her pregnancy was thankfully unaffected.

On the day after the shooting, Basheera and Jamilah went to market in town. At one of the junk vendors, they found me a leather satchel full of old medical equipment, including a stethoscope and spignomanometer. The equipment was old, but it was functional and high quality. I felt like a frontier doctor in the old west with my little black bag.

By day three, Fatima's left lung sounded clear and equal to her right. The small entry wound was closing by itself, and didn't appear to be septic. I think the amoxicillin was especially effective for Fatima, because she had never been treated with a penicillin type drug. In a week, it was hard to tell anything untoward had happened to her.

I think the incident with Hassan cemented my relationship with my wives and changed it for the better. They now knew how much I cared for them, not just from my words, but from my actions as well. In return, they became less restrained with showing how they felt about me. My wives started initiating kisses now, instead of just acquiescing to my kissing them. They came to me now to be held and touched. I obliged them, of course, because it was as good for me as it was for them. Through all this though, they didn't smother me. When I wandered off to be alone, they let me.

I did have a talk with Basheera about Zahrah. It was difficult for Basheera to not want to run her daughter's life and decide about her marrying, but she finally agreed to give the girl space. Zahrah blossomed when the pressure on her subsided. She stopped being withdrawn and stopped acting disinterested in everything.

And so another two weeks passed, my days filled with work and camaraderie, my nights filled with everything from sweet love to raging lust. The farm was coming along nicely, we were up to two nice deliveries to the market a week now, and our tomatoes and melons were in high demand. We set our prices based on growing our product locally so we sold out quickly. Most importantly, we had a sustainable cycle of weekly plantings established; in another month or two, we'd have a bumper crop, even with three market days a week. I think we were even turning a profit, although Basheera was tight lipped about our finances. Basheera was a whiz with money, but she was so tight, she squeaked when she walked.

I never figured out the system the wives used for my nighttime company. I mean there wasn't a duty roster or anything like that posted, and I couldn't figure out any sort of rotation going on. Well, whatever, I was never neglected and the wives seemed happy, so I guess it was a non-issue. I do know that the women continually surprised me, as they discovered their sexuality. All had their little quirks, likes and dislikes that were fun figuring out.

The big surprise turned out to be Tahani and Jamilah. I found out Tahani was bisexual like Jamilah one night, when they joined me together. I have to say it was one of the hottest nights of sex I ever experienced. When Jamilah guided Tahani's head down into her fragrant muff for the first time, it was so erotic I almost had a spontaneous climax. We formed about as many combinations as three people were capable of that night, and the pure eroticism of the two women together turned me in to a perpetual hardon.

Adara was a major little horndog along with Tahani and the amazing Kalila. Those three managed about two turns each for every one for my other wives. Adara loved everything even remotely related to sex and would try anything, anytime or any place. In contrast, Kalila was shy anywhere but in the bedroom, but when the door closed she was a tiger. Kalila and I fucked in some positions that Mallanaga Vatsyayana could not even imagine when he wrote the Kama Sutra. Kalila and I continued to explore her submissive streak with some very satisfying results. The shackles in the harem room stayed well maintained, thanks to my limber and lithe love slave.

With all I had going for me, I had some very mixed feelings when the women returned from the market and informed me that the Americans were starting operations in the area just twelve miles from the farm.
Joe J & Wet Dream-Girl
Chapter 13