(no subject)
Jul. 19th, 2009 12:02 amMr and Mrs Smith had fallen on bad times. Once a highly successful chemist, Mr Smith had lost his job several years ago, and with his wife unable to make ends meet as a cleaner, they found themselves destined for the Farmeade estate.
They had each other, and they had their son Bradley, and they knew they would pull through somehow.
It was one of the neighbours who found out Bradley was in a gang, when the Devil Horn Gang smashed a car up. They'd tried to talk him out of it, punish him, but he wouldn't listen - the gang were his mates, and they couldn't keep him locked up.
Mr and Mrs Smith faced the possibility that one day they wouldn't be able to keep him safe, and prepared accordingly.
***
It is a warm Tuesday evening, still just about light. Guppy steps out of the hospital, tucking his stethoscope into his bag as he starts to walk home. As he does so, a distressed woman comes running up to him.
"Please, you're a doctor, aren't you? I need you to help my son, it's an emergency!"
Guppy, while he might have been suspicious of a youngster, follows after the woman of about forty five. He becomes nervous when she reaches the border of the Farmeade estate, but they reach the house before he can stop her to ask questions.
"Have you called an ambulance?" he asks, racing up the stairs to where a man is bent over a lad of about eighteen, with a knife sticking out of his leg. The lad is unconscious, and there's a lot of blood.
"Yes, please, help us!" the father begs, as Guppy gets to work quickly.
"What's his name?"
"Bradley." the woman says, sobbing into her hands. "We just found him like this."
Guppy tries to keep the lad stable, knowing that the ambulance shouldn't take long to get there. He gets the father to put pressure on the wound, gets a line in and starts giving fluids.
"Where's that ambulance?" he asks. "How long ago did you call?"
"Can't you help him?" the father begs.
"He needs an operating theatre. I only have a basic kit here."
"Please, use what you have here and help him."
"Call the ambulance back, ask them how long it'll be."
"We didn't call the ambulance." the mother whimpers. "No authorities, if the gangs find out, we're all dead."
"If you don't call an ambulance he's not going to make it!" Guppy yells.
"No, you can fix him." the father says, holding up a device that looks something like a television remote control. "Make him better, I don't care if it's legal or ethical, you do the surgery here, now, or... or pieces of Farmeade go sky high. We don't want to hurt anyone, but we'll do anything to protect our son."
Guppy stares at him in disbelief. But he can't take this as a bluff.
"That is a terrible, terrible plan." he says.
They had each other, and they had their son Bradley, and they knew they would pull through somehow.
It was one of the neighbours who found out Bradley was in a gang, when the Devil Horn Gang smashed a car up. They'd tried to talk him out of it, punish him, but he wouldn't listen - the gang were his mates, and they couldn't keep him locked up.
Mr and Mrs Smith faced the possibility that one day they wouldn't be able to keep him safe, and prepared accordingly.
***
It is a warm Tuesday evening, still just about light. Guppy steps out of the hospital, tucking his stethoscope into his bag as he starts to walk home. As he does so, a distressed woman comes running up to him.
"Please, you're a doctor, aren't you? I need you to help my son, it's an emergency!"
Guppy, while he might have been suspicious of a youngster, follows after the woman of about forty five. He becomes nervous when she reaches the border of the Farmeade estate, but they reach the house before he can stop her to ask questions.
"Have you called an ambulance?" he asks, racing up the stairs to where a man is bent over a lad of about eighteen, with a knife sticking out of his leg. The lad is unconscious, and there's a lot of blood.
"Yes, please, help us!" the father begs, as Guppy gets to work quickly.
"What's his name?"
"Bradley." the woman says, sobbing into her hands. "We just found him like this."
Guppy tries to keep the lad stable, knowing that the ambulance shouldn't take long to get there. He gets the father to put pressure on the wound, gets a line in and starts giving fluids.
"Where's that ambulance?" he asks. "How long ago did you call?"
"Can't you help him?" the father begs.
"He needs an operating theatre. I only have a basic kit here."
"Please, use what you have here and help him."
"Call the ambulance back, ask them how long it'll be."
"We didn't call the ambulance." the mother whimpers. "No authorities, if the gangs find out, we're all dead."
"If you don't call an ambulance he's not going to make it!" Guppy yells.
"No, you can fix him." the father says, holding up a device that looks something like a television remote control. "Make him better, I don't care if it's legal or ethical, you do the surgery here, now, or... or pieces of Farmeade go sky high. We don't want to hurt anyone, but we'll do anything to protect our son."
Guppy stares at him in disbelief. But he can't take this as a bluff.
"That is a terrible, terrible plan." he says.