The War In His Mind

Chapter 37

Natasha worked in the field hospital to take care of the wounded. She found herself covered in blood and the smell of death as bodies were dragged in piled on top of one another. It was hard to see who was alive and who didn't make it. The gloves on her hands were wearing thin. She had been wearing them for the last hour and almost forgotten they were on until she pressed her fingers against a neck to find heartbeats.

It was the same pattern on a factory-esque scale. Wheel in the new patients, find a heart beat, and set any broken bones. Everything else would be taken care of someone who was not herself. It was her role, and she was comfortable with it.

It was with great anguish that she watched the bodies of young children fitted with sheets over their heads wheel past her. Those were the bodies too mutilated to assume they survived.

It was impossible to tell how many rockets were passing by. Every few moments there was another loud explosion followed by a group of victims being carried into the field hospital. Natasha did the best she could, but the nurses and doctors were strained to accomplish all that needed to be done.

Outside of the window she saw Abraham, working diligently to save others trapped in rubble. He lifted beams and large segments of concrete off of those stuck underneath them. One man had his leg under a thick metal support beam. Natasha knew that they would have to cut off the leg. There was no way to avoid the amputation.

A man appeared in her room and pointed out at scene she had been watching. "Miss- we need you there..." His face was covered in dirt and blood. He must have been working with Abraham, she thought.

She picked up her medical bag which included a large saw and rushed out of the field hospital. The air smelled of spoiled blood and sulfur. She imagined that it was the same smell inside of a coffin.

Though she was more then fifty feet from the victim, she could easily see that the leg was already severed. Fragments of muscle and bone were intermixed with spurts of blood.

A loud creaking sound came from the scaffolding above the building. The support beams holding the upper portion of the building in place were weakening, and made Natasha more than a little nervous. She had to make a choice. Risk death to save this man, or save herself and let him die.

She gravely considered both options. It was impossible to discern which was the right one. She knew that the city needed her. Who else would care for the wounded? The supply of doctors was already short. Was letting go of a one life worth it if it saved thousands?

The wounded victim turned his head toward her. She felt a sharp pain in the chest. It was a sense of alarm that another person needed her- and it was her duty to save him. He raised his hand out to her and pleaded "Save me...please...for my daughter..."

A woman holding a small child stood several feet away from him. The child, no older than two, was reaching out for the man, screaming "Daddy...Daddy..." as loud as she could. Natasha imagined the child growing up without a father and found that the pressure to save him helped her run faster.

She could make it to him. She had to. There was no other option.

The first sections of the balcony began to give way. She could feel small pebbles hit the side of her cheek. One struck her in the jaw. A trickle of blood drizzled from the fresh wound and pooled on her shirt. The air around her smelled of dust and shattered drywall. The balcony gave way and an ominous cloud of debris descended upon the area. The largest intact portion landed upon the chest of the victim, crushing him under its weight. Natasha jumped back to save herself from any debris. It was too late. There was no hope left. He was gone, and there wasn't any changing that.

There were screams all around her. Men, women, and children fled in a panic. Natasha couldn't see where the crowd went through the unsettled dust. Inside of the dust cloud she saw the body of the man half exposed under the balcony. His arm was extended and the left half of his face was shattered and distorted. Bone fragments, broken apart by the concrete, were jutting through his skin. His skull was severed in many different places, distorting him into something that looked less than human. Natasha weeped at the sight of the tragedy. If only she had pushed herself farther, he might have been alive. She wondered where the daughter and mother were at. It would be best, she thought, if they never saw this.