Day 2, The First is the WorstA Chapter by Meeks Things aren't always sunny in a hospital. There's a war on, after all. Day 2, March 24 The trucks drive up. Soldiers spill out. We carry them to their beds. More trucks. More soldiers. More carrying. Over and over. Seems like it would have gotten monotone quickly, but it didn't. We cleared a whole wing of the first floor yesterday, and there was more than enough room for beds. Still, I can't believe that I threw stuff worth more than my monthly salary outside, but hey, doctor’s orders. Can't really argue even if I wanted to. We managed to organize a storeroom, in which supplies and food and medicine are kept, and a staff room, which is currently empty and useless. I somehow doubted that we’ll ever manage to fill up the mansion’s entirety, even though patients poured in constantly. I grabbed another patient, putting his arm around my shoulders and half-dragging, half leading him up the staircase to the Hospital. He had enough strength to take a few steps here and there, which spared me a lot of work, and so we clumsily made our way inside. The beautiful halls are gone. Well, they were still there, and they were still very fine looking, but it's not the same now. The entire wing was a hospital, beds placed regularly up against the walls and soldiers reclining in white gowns. I led him down, trying to find an empty bed, until one less-beat-up looking soldier stopped me. “Ma’am, I can take him from here,” his voice was gruff, and he slipped his hands to support the lifeless patient. “You should be in bed,” I told him. “The doctor said I can try to walk, trying out my ankle,” he shrugged. “So I guess I can help out.” I frowned, but nodded at him. “Fine. Just don't hit him on anything.” “As you wish, ma'am,” he said, and I caught his smile as they turned around and continued down the hallway. Weird, patients didn't usually volunteer to help out, but they see we need help. Maybe one or two feel guilty about lying around in bed all day when they could be doing something useful, or maybe they are just bored and wouldn't mind some work. Either way, it’s nice to have an extra pair of hands so that- “Janet, there you are!” a nurse grabbed my shoulder. I recognized her, we sat next to each other in the truck that brought us here, but I couldn't remember her name. Her face was red. “There’s this guy, in the lobby, we don't know what to do,” she huffed. “What happened?” I ask. She takes a moment to catch her breath. “Someone went to find the surgeon general,” she said ignoring my question. She wrapped her fingers around mine and pulled me towards the lobby. “Come on!” We rushed past a food cart, bumping into at least three soldiers and a nurse before everyone noticed we were urgently going somewhere and made room. I heard screams coming from the far end, until she pulled me past one last doorway and I could see the cause of commotion. In the middle of the floor, on a stretcher lay a bearded soldier, who instead of a right leg had a soiled and bloody bandage at about the knee. He looked dead, or would have if he hadn't been squirming in the hands of several people, who were trying to hold him down. “Get him to the operation room,” I decided, looking at his torn and bloody shirt. Shrapnel, must have stepped on a mine or something. “And, nurse, follow me.” Several people grabbed the stretcher and hoisted it above the ground, and I swiftly led the way to the kitchen. It was an open space, had a few large metal tables and even running water, which is why we designated it as the operation room. The actual kitchen was outside. “Okay, put him right here,” I pointed to one of the tables, and they carefully set it down. The patient grabbed the edge of his stretcher so hard his knuckles grew white, and looked at me fearfully. “Nurse, get me some bandages, rubbing alcohol, gloves, tweezers, a pair of scissors, and… do we have painkiller?” The nurse shook her head. “It was supposed to be delivered today, but they say there's a shortage right now,” she said. I nodded in understanding, and then dismiss the nurse so she can get what we need. “Ma’am-” the soldier coughs, and I quickly hold my finger to his lips. “Shh, no talking.” “Where, where....” he trailed off, but his gaze was so intense that I felt compelled to respond. “You're at Northern Front Main Hospital,” I said. “Now shush, you're making it worse.” The nurse quickly came back with an armful of tools, and dumped them next to the soldier, who widened his eyes in fear. “Good,” I said, handing her the scissors. “Get the bandage on the leg off,” I decided. “But, Janet, I...” “Just try not to cut the skin. It’ll be fine,” I shrugged, unbuttoning the man’s uniform to reveal a horribly torn-apart chest. There were dozens of little wounds, some not yet finished oozing blood, and one could see the little pieces of metal buried deep in the muscles. I sighed, grabbing a pair of tweezers. They did cover this topic back at school, but I wasn't expecting having to use it so early. The practical parts were sometimes gruesome, especially when we operated live on a corpse. The soldier twisted himself, raising his arm to grab my white uniform. “Ma’am…ma’am,” he said, the blood flowing out of his chest. He was going to kill himself if I didn't do something quickly. I couldn't operate, or do much of anything if he was squirming around. We would have to restrain him or something; where is Schrodinger?© 2016 MeeksReviews
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MeeksPolandAboutHey guys! I'm a sixteen year old writer trying desperately to make something publish-worthy. In the meantime, I hand out useful critiques and comments. Currently trying to work on something diffe.. more..Writing
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