Free CALL MAMA by Terry H. Watson Page A

House.”
    â€œGood, we’ll make use of him. Right, Alf, you’re in charge of collecting repayments in cash. Turn up at their house and one look at your ugly mug, they will pay on the nail.”
    â€œOr pay the consequences. Wow, I am gonna love that bit, buddy,” sneered Alf.
    â€œNot too rough at first Alf. Take it gently, show them your sweet side, and then, when they can’t pay, go in for the kill.”
    â€œYeah, man, the charges will escalate through the roof. Bring it on!”

Chapter 14
    The 19 th January 1996 was the day Amila Tanovic’s life changed forever. She was exhausted from non-stop nursing, attending to emergencies pouring in to the hospital where she worked. The task was relentless; medical supplies were in short supply, staff morale at a low ebb and space at a premium as more and more casualties piled in, the strain etched on each face.
    The war in Bosnia had taken a toll on its people. Unrelenting violence against inhabitants of her home city of Sarajevo reduced them to a state of constant fear. Nowhere was safe in Sarajevo, not work, school, home, nor hospital. Deliberate attacks on the hospital had already reduced a section of the building to rubble. The death toll rose daily as the siege of Sarajevo continued relentlessly. It was the longest siege of a capital city in the history of modern warfare.
    More and more victims were being brought in by any means possible, by family, friends, and compassionate strangers. Constant demands rapidly depleted the already limited supplies of bandages, drugs and basic equipment. Amila, in early stages of pregnancy, worked on autopilot. Blood stains covered her uniform, face and arms. There was no time to clean up, no reason for a change of uniform – finding a fresh one was now out of the question. The noise of heavy machine-gun fire constantly filled the air, assaulting eardrums and spreading panic and dread throughout the city. An explosion was heard nearby, causing alarm in the hospital.
    Word came quickly: a tram had been attacked not far from where they were and soon more casualties were carried in. Amila looked up momentarily from attending to a young man whose arm had been severed to see her distressed husband, Nikol, carrying a wounded victim, tension etched on his handsome face as he frantically looked for a space to place the casualty, his police uniform unrecognizable now from weeks of the ravages of war.
    â€œAmila, dragi, darling, such tragedy. A tram was attacked, a grenade was fired from Grbavica neighbourhood. Such carnage. One person dead, many injured, about nineteen, we think. When will it end?”
    Amila helped her husband place the injured man gently in a corner space, hugged Nikol and wished, how she wished, she could stay there in his arms and rest her exhausted body.
    â€œI have to get back, honey, so much to do, so much… I will come for you later to take you home. You must rest soon. Think of our little one.”
    He tenderly kissed his wife and took off once more into the carnage of the city.
    Home, a name that should conjure up images of peace, tranquillity and safety, was none of these. Their little haven had been reduced almost to rubble in an artillery attack that took the lives of Amila’s parents, grandmother and young sister. They lost most of their personal possessions, documents, birth and marriage certificates, family photographs and treasured mementoes.
    Nikol’s family had been wiped out in a previous air strike, his brother still missing, whereabouts unknown. The couple, along with Sergei, Amila’s only brother, escaped because fate decreed they were not in the vicinity at the time. The three shared what was left of the family home, one room barely big enough for them to move, but it was luxury compared to what some other people had. Tragedy again struck when Sergei was shot by a sniper’s bullet while out searching for food.
    While tending to casualties of the