The Weaver Fish by Robert Edeson

them down for exposure. It occurred to Anna that they hadn’t thought of checking his pockets for clues to identity. Kelly opened a sterile pack and Philip gloved. He searched for vessels using ultrasound. By now, Anna and the others, aware that they were not needed, had retired some distance.
    The two lines took about ten minutes to place. They then hadan intra-arterial pressure trace displayed on the cardiac monitor. Philip drew a blood sample, which Max took to the lab. Kelly had primed a pump set which she connected to the new IV access and ran more units of blood. With the lines sutured in, Philip straightened up and removed his gloves into a large disposals bag. He stared at the monitor. The heart rate was still coming down, blood pressure low but not critical. Kelly was repeating neurological obs and said, ‘No change.’ Still watching the monitor, Philip reached up to the pump and squeezed blood through for a minute. Kelly put up another pack, and changed the neck line to saline.
    â€˜Bloods for culture, coags, cross match, please Kelly, then antibiotics. ‘Did you examine his back?’ he asked Anna.
    â€˜Yes. Skin haemorrhage but no obvious injury.’
    â€˜What do you make of this oedema?’
    â€˜I was wondering if it might be anaphylactoid.’
    Philip showed interest. ‘Kelly, let’s set up adrenaline.’
    He was still pumping, still looking at the monitor. ‘I wonder where he lost all that blood.’
    He palpated the abdomen again. The skin was oedematous but the belly was soft. Max handed him a small printout of blood gas and biochemistry results.
    â€˜Acidotic, renal failure, not surprisingly.’ He stared at the man’s head. ‘We should secure the airway before transfer.’
    There was a note of ambivalence; with the grossly swollen neck it didn’t look easy. Max already had an intubation tray prepared, and began to draw up the drugs. A few minutes later, an endotracheal tube was in place, and Philip was adjusting the settings on a portable ventilator.
    â€˜Ready to go,’ he said.
    Max nodded and hurried to where he had previously signalled the pilot. A moment later they heard the rotors begin turning. Max continued on, returning shortly with a folding trolley.
    â€˜Do you mind if we look through his pockets for ID?’ said Anna.
    â€˜Of course,’ said Philip, and immediately Kelly examined them thoroughly, but found nothing.
    â€˜Unknown male from Copio, then.’ That was to be his medical identity.
    â€˜Where will you take him, exactly?’ It was Paulo who asked.
    â€˜Madregalo General Hospital, ICU. We’ll decide tonight if we need to ship him on. I’ll update you this evening. Our team is here for another two weeks.’
    They were transferring the patient to the transport trolley.
    â€˜By the way, Anna, the colonel sends his best.’ Not knowing exactly what this signified, Anna ignored it.
    Kelly and Max positioned the ventilator, monitor and syringe pumps on the trolley, and each took one end. Philip walked beside it. Paulo and Nicholas helped by carrying the other cases. Within a few minutes, the aircraft lifted off and headed in the direction of the Edge.
    Anna walked back to the canteen. Staff were tidying up the makeshift emergency area. The schoolchildren had been given meals in their classroom and were now well into afternoon lessons. Some volunteers were beginning a delayed lunch. She found Edvard’s watch, briefly polished it on a towel, and put it in her pocket. Then she poured a coffee and walked outside. Paulo and Nicholas were standing on the gravel, looking at her.
    â€˜Thanks for all the help you both gave. I’m sure he’s in excellent hands now.’ She paused to gauge their reaction. Paulo was the first to speak.
    â€˜Do you really think it is Edvard?’
    â€˜No. No, I don’t, Paulo.’
    In the following days, Anna spent much of her time at the