Chapter 13

“Orders from the top. We must prioritize Militia over enemy wounded,” Dr. Samuel Singh informed us now.

“Well, that’s ... medically ... unethical, by all usual standards, but probably necessary. Anyway, it’s an order, so we have to follow it. This isn’t the Holocaust and we’re not the SS or Gestapo. We’re doctors and nurses doing the best that we can, and we’re also soldiers in an army with a chain of command,” Anne observed, ending that debate as far as all of us were concerned.

If Dr. Anne Thorpe accepted it, and she was our unit commander, the woman that we’d trusted for so many months now, we would do it. Her decisions had saved untold lives before, more than we could count. She had just saved us all from being rocket fodder less than a week before. Also, yes, for me, I knew the woman literally inside and out. I trusted her implicitly.

“Aye, aye, Captain. One less decision to make. Saves time and lives, too,” I assured Anne of my obedience to her command and that of the brass.

“It’s basically just another form of triage, anyway,” Aaron observed.

“I’d have to agree with that,” Corporal Kristen Mackey added, but she was an orderly and had little say.

“Less talk, more action. The bodies are starting to trickle in now and soon it’ll be a flood!” Anne warned us sternly, but that was only because she didn’t want us to get swamp.

Good intentions or not, too much chatter could be distracting at a critical point, which this was about to become. I checked a pulse on one of the first victims coming in. Nothing. Skin was cold and clammy. He was a goner. No CPR or shock paddles for him. Too far gone.

“Time of death, twenty-two hundred hours local time. Let’s get him out of here. Walker, Mackey, you know what to do,” Anne barked an order and we didn’t hesitate to obey her.

“We need the bed, anyway,” Singh remarked as another body was brought in and another after that.

The trickle had already become a deluge, or at least a flash flood. We were constantly busy, doing one surgery after another, saving more than we lost, but still losing a few here or there. There was only so much we could do with limited resources, particularly manpower. We were further spread thin by the need for nurses and orderlies to take turns removing the slain from their beds to the funeral pyres just outside the residential areas.

While the ranks of the preserved grew exponentially, the numbers of the dead climbed slowly and steadily as well. Inevitably, a handful of enemy survived, but their chances decreased due to being a lower priority compared to Militia. They were lucky to have any shot at all, given the increased strain on our medical supplies. We were also rather tired, but what else was new? We operated on adrenaline, our minds going on autopilot for the most part, our hands going on muscle memory and partly on instinct. Once again, it was a blur, a haze, a daze.

I didn’t snap out of that until at some point I fell asleep and was awakened. By Anne, who else? She looked very worried and upset.

“Darling, you collapsed from exhaustion and overwork. Don’t worry. Someone filled in the gap and we saved that patient, oddly enough an enemy combatant. A Klansman who might wish in time that he hadn’t been saved, depending on his very uncertain future. You simply pushed yourself too far. Remember, in addition to helping with patients, you also helped transport bodies out of the hospitals.

“That combination must have broken you. I’ve only seen this now and then, given the sheer capacity of human adrenaline and willpower. You pushed yourself to that brink and then finally went over it. Don’t do that again. That’s a direct order from your superior officer. Do you clearly understand me? You’re no use to us dead,” Anne told me with several kisses to my face, her own lines of fatigue and stress plain on hers.

“How did you get away from it all?” I asked her now.

“Well, there’s been a significant lull in the fighting again. I think that the Klan’s getting plenty desperate. They’re said to be boxed in at the industrial, commercial, and government districts of Winston-Salem. Down to a third of their previous strength, too. Maybe two thousand or so men, possibly some women armed at the last minute. Hell, some reports have them arming boys and girls. I wouldn’t be shocked if they were, though I’d be even more furious than I am,” Anne told me now.