THE SCALPEL AND THE GUN

Tutula Island is more than a dot on a sea chart. At the coast people treat it like a black hole ready to swallow anyone who gets close. If you enter without permission you do not leave whole. The island belongs to The Trubulls, a gang that no longer fears the law. They keep logistics warehouses, loyal guards and a hidden workshop that builds guns. The sound of weapon tests in the jungle is everyday music. No police officer, not even the highest ranked, orders a raid on Tutula’s pier. Landing there means handing your life to devils for free.

That Wednesday afternoon the heat pressed on tempers. Jowkim sat in his big chair covered in crocodile leather. He is not the kind of boss who only gives orders from behind a desk. A burn scar runs from his neck to his cheek, proof that he has eaten plenty of the underworld’s sour meals. He sipped black coffee with no sugar and pulled deep on a kretek. His mind fixed on one name, Davina.

Word about Davina has reached him for a long time. She is not only a beautiful woman who lives in Morina City, she is a specialist surgeon with incredible hands. People say her touch works miracles in the operating room but her personality is cold as the north pole. For Jowkim taking Davina is not just lust, it is pride. He wants to own the hardest thing to conquer in that city and make her his wife.

"Melvin," he called in a heavy hoarse voice.

The man stepped forward. Melvin is the most trusted right hand. He does not talk much but when he moves things get done. Loyalty to Jowkim needs no proof, at least that is what everyone in Tutula believes. In the corner Dori, another Trubulls hothead, watched with jealous eyes. Dori always feels edged out by Melvin who gets the crucial jobs.

"Go to Morina. Bring the doctor Davina. Bring her here alive any way you can. She will be my wife," he ordered.

Melvin froze when he heard Morina and Davina from Jowkim’s filthy mouth. His heart hammered like a mallet against his ribs. Morina is his hometown, the place of bitter childhood memories. Davina is the only woman he ever loved honestly. He wanted to shout refuse, wanted to beat Jowkim then and there, but he knew his place. On Tutula Jowkim’s word is absolute law. Resist and you die pointlessly without saving anyone.

Melvin could only bow his head and clench his fists deep in his jacket pockets. He wasted no time. He gathered Yance and four others.

"Get the weapons, we leave now. Take the fastest car," he said cold, hiding the storm inside.

The ride felt endless. They fought waves on a speedboat before reaching Morina. Inside a black SUV that ate up the road Melvin stayed quiet watching glittering skyscrapers. Morina is big, clean and advanced, nothing like Tutula’s rust and gunpowder smell. This is the city where Melvin grew up poor before he ended up following Jowkim to that trash island.

"We are at the central hospital front Boss. Orders?" Yance asked while racking his pistol.

"Yance, you and four men go inside. Take the doctor. I wait here to keep the escape route clear," Melvin said. He chose to stay outside. He could not bear to see Davina’s frightened eyes when his own men dragged her away.

Yance grinned. "Got it Boss. I will drag that doctor if she fights."

Inside the calm hospital lobby turned to hell. Yance and his crew stormed the third floor where Davina was about to go home. She walked the corridor and suddenly armed men blocked her path. She did not see Melvin, only a stranger with a brutal face who grabbed her hair hard.

"Doctor Davina, come with us now or I put a hole in your head here," Yance barked.

"Let go you bastard. Who are you?" Davina cried. A fellow doctor saw it and called police from the reception desk. Minutes later sirens surrounded the building. Morina is a big city with fast security.

Gunfire erupted in the narrow alcohol scented hallway. Automatic shots shattered glass. Four of Melvin’s men died instantly, chests torn open by hot lead. Melvin heard the chaos and rushed into the lobby to cover Yance’s escape.

In that brutal fight Melvin managed to shoot seven police officers who tried to encircle him. The price was steep. Two police bullets hit him, one in the left chest and one in the lower stomach.

"Ugh, you bastard," Melvin roared holding his gut pouring blood. Yance saw him wounded, pulled him into the car and floored it leaving their friends bodies and piles of police behind.

The SUV zigzagged away from downtown Morina. Melvin leaned on the back seat his breath short tasting metal. The pain in his body meant nothing next to the shame burning inside. As Jowkim’s most reliable hand who never fails, returning to Tutula empty handed felt like unbearable disgrace. He was too ashamed to show his face as a loser in front of Jowkim, especially on his own native soil where he should have proved his strength.

"Stop Yance. Stop up there now," Melvin rasped when they reached a deserted edge of town.

"We have to get to the pier Boss. Your blood won’t stop," Yance shouted panicked.

"I said stop you pig. Do not disobey me," Melvin growled with his last strength spitting thick blood.

Yance slammed brakes on a dark empty road. Melvin staggered out clutching his wounds. Shame made him feel unfit to set foot on Tutula with this humiliating failure.

"Go home Yance. Tell Jowkim the mission failed completely because police surrounded us. Say Melvin died shot. Let him think I died a martyr, not a loser coming home with failure because I am too ashamed to return as a beaten pig," Melvin said with a hoarse voice.

"But Boss you are still alive," Yance said confused.

"Leave now or I shoot your head. I am too ashamed to come back as trash," Melvin warned aiming his shaking gun. Yance finally drove off leaving Melvin collapsed beside a pile of garbage in a forgotten alley.

Hours later Davina drove her car, her hands still trembling. Police had just let her go after exhausting questioning. She took a roundabout route through quiet outskirts to calm her mind.

Her headlights swept a dark roadside and caught something. A man lay helpless among trash and shadows. Her doctor instinct kicked in. She stopped, got out cautiously and walked to the body.

When she turned the face her heart stopped. The car light revealed the bloodied man.

"Melvin," she whispered hoarse. Shock and disappointment crashed through her. The man she had missed for 17 years now appeared as the thug who sent men to kidnap her. The bullet wounds in his chest and stomach looked terrible, blood drying with a sharp copper scent.

"You are really a bastard Melvin. Why did you do this to me," Davina sobbed in the silent night. Even though hatred burned she could not let her childhood friend die there.

With great effort Davina hauled Melvin’s heavy body onto the back seat. She sped to her father’s old clinic on a remote edge of town. The clinic had been closed for years but the surgical tools were still neatly stored.

Under a flickering operating light Davina roughly tore Melvin’s shirt. She picked up a scalpel and began cutting into him to remove the bullets. Her hands shook hard but her surgeon focus took over.

"Do not die yet Melvin. You owe me a lot of explanations before I drag you to hell myself," Davina cursed as she made the first incision into his ruined stomach.