The war changed the world.
It was a statement that went with every gunshot.
BANG. The war changed the world.
BANG. The war changed the world.
BANG. The war changed the world.
Catherine Mitchell found that term to be incorrect, because as she witnes...
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SIX - What If? POV - Catherine Mitchell
EVERYONE was worried about Speedy. Which did not help my own increasing worry. I also found everybody's concern for her weird since no one else besides the COs and her tight knit friend group talked to her. It was only after I found out that people were running low on candy bars and makeup did I realize what they were actually worried about. It sucks when the person in charge of supplies is out of commission.
I walked across the training camp with a hand lazily shoved into my pocket and the other holding on tight to a clipboard. I watched as a group of girls in PT clothes jogged by me and I offered them a reassuring smile.
Training got a lot harder. Our wake up call was pushed from 630 to 500. Full packs of equipment and uniforms was added onto each run, drills became fighting scenarios, meal time was cut in half to get more training in a day. Fatigue was obvious amongst the girls. With no weekend passes to look forward to, a lot were beginning to wonder what we're supposed to look forward to. Myself included.
I was lucky to find a free hour in my schedule and decided to have a quick check in with my company clerk. I found the medical bay that was basically just a normal barrack only with a Red Cross hung up on the door.
I walked inside and was immediately hit with the stench of bleach. Bunks were lined up side by side with perfectly made white sheets that were tucked in just right. Shelves upon shelves of boxes lined the back wall, each one of them with a Red Cross on the front of the cardboard. Only one of the beds was occupied, a pale face poked out of the sheets and the only way you could tell it was a face and not the pillow itself was the auburn hair that contrasted heavily to the stark white linens.
A woman in a green army uniform stood next to the bed, towering over it with a bout of height. Doc Cassidy, one of the medics, talked quietly to Speedy while taking notes on her own clipboard.
"Hey, Speedy. How are you doing?" I watched as the young girl sat up straighter and a big smile grew on her lips. "Perfectly fine, Lieutenant Mitchell. I'm ready to get back to work."
"You got shot in your thigh five days ago, you're not fine." Doc Cassidy said, looking up from her clipboard and staring at Speedy incredulously.
"I feel fine!" Speedy protested before whipping her head over to me. "Could you drop off my clipboard at least, I'd like to get some work done instead of just laying here useless."
"I figured you would say that." I told her before holding up the clipboard I brought with me, having a feeling that Speedy would ask for the presence of her best friend.
"Thank you, Lieutenant Mitchell!" Speedy cried out with glee before holding her hands out expectedly, like a mother preparing to be passed her new born child.
Doc Cassidy cleared her throat, breaking up the tear-jerking reunion. "I figured you would like to know the results of the tests?" Doc Cassidy asked, referring to the tests that had to be run on Speedy for her 'episode' after being shot.
