Wives of War

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Wives of War Page 16

by Soraya M. Lane


  Ellie was tugging on her arm like an insistent child, the panic in her voice pulling Lucy from her thoughts. And then she realised what was going on, that it was about to happen all over again.

  Boom!

  She let out a scream that she couldn’t even believe came from her body and propelled herself forwards. Why was everyone standing around? Why was no one helping?

  She would be damned if she’d let the enemy get away with blowing up their ambulances and the good men and women inside.

  ‘Over my dead body,’ she muttered as she ran faster than she’d ever run in her life.

  Lucy ran towards the ambulance, the rain on the canvas above where she’d been sheltering the only thing she heard as she pumped her arms at her sides, desperate to help. Flames simmered orange in front of her, rising higher and turning redder, or maybe it was her eyes playing tricks on her. She didn’t know and she didn’t care; all she cared about was making sure another nurse or doctor didn’t die because no one was brave enough to help them.

  She glanced to her right, sensing someone, ready to push anyone away who tried to stop her and tell her it was too dangerous, and then she saw Doctor Black and that he was rushing to the ambulance’s aid, too. The smoke was strong, sickly, and the crashing sound nearby told her she could be flattened at any moment, but she couldn’t worry about that.

  Spencer yanked the mangled door to the ambulance, the truck on its side in front of them as Lucy’s boots skidded on the mud, stopping her abruptly.

  ‘Help me pull this!’ Spencer yelled.

  She grimaced, pain tearing through her arm as she pulled as hard as she could, pressed against the doctor as they both put everything they had into opening the door. Eventually it came away, sending Lucy reeling backwards when it finally yielded.

  ‘Help!’ Lucy screamed out, looking back and seeing that more men were coming, orderlies who’d probably only just arrived for duty.

  A handful of nurses stood watching, but Lucy didn’t have time to think about that. The fire was in the front of the heavy truck; she knew it was only so long before it exploded.

  ‘Help him out!’ Spencer yelled at her. ‘I need to check up front.’

  She didn’t bother to tell him to be careful, just like he hadn’t told her to turn back. Instead she carefully climbed in, coughing as the smoke swirled around and filled her nostrils.

  ‘Help.’

  Lucy paused, certain she’d heard a whisper. Her eyes adjusted, the inside of the ambulance dark with only the one door thrown open. She saw a body, moved carefully and felt straight away for a pulse. Nothing.

  ‘Help.’

  The whisper was weaker now, but she’d heard it. She moved over the body, then saw another, slammed into the corner.

  ‘I need help in here!’ she called out. ‘We have a live soldier to get out!’

  She reached for him, touched her fingers to his. They were cold, but the slight movement of his fingertips against her hand told her he was alive, that she needed to do everything she could to get him out.

  ‘Get that nurse out of there!’

  ‘This thing’s going to blow!’

  Lucy sucked back a breath, fear starting to creep in when earlier there’d been nothing other than adrenaline.

  ‘Go.’ The soldier’s barely audible whisper made her look up.

  She shook her head. ‘I’m not leaving you. We’ll get you out of here, soldier.’

  Hands grabbed at her, yanked her back, pulling her away from the soldier who was surely so close to death.

  ‘No!’ she screamed.

  ‘Get that damn nurse out of there!’ a man yelled, his voice cutting through her as she was dragged back.

  ‘He’s alive! He needs us!’

  Spencer pushed past then and she gave up fighting, certain he wouldn’t leave a man in there.

  ‘Get everyone back. Now!’ he shouted. ‘If I can get him out I’ll do it.’ He pointed at her. ‘Go back, all of you.’

  She obeyed him, not about to defy his orders and distract him from hauling the soldier out. They all moved, far back, and he disappeared.

  ‘Spencer!’

  Lucy turned and saw Ellie drop to her knees, hand to her mouth as she sobbed. She quickly ran to her, all the way back to the hospital entrance, dropping beside her and putting her arms around her.

  ‘He’ll be fine,’ she soothed, hoping she wasn’t telling a lie as she coughed from the smoke. ‘He’s so brave and there’s a soldier in there. Alive. I was holding his hand myself.’

  Lucy looked back to the ambulance. Even though it must have been only a minute or less, it felt like an age since Spencer had gone back into the truck.

  Then she saw him. Staggering under the weight of a man easily as big as he was, emerging from the back of the fallen ambulance.

  ‘Help him!’ she insisted, moving forward, not able to watch and do nothing.

  Orderlies and doctors rushed past her, finally spurred into action and going to Spencer and taking the weight of the soldier from him. He looked like he was going to collapse and she took his arm, helped him in. It wasn’t until they were all under canvas again, Spencer sitting on the ground and the injured soldier being lowered on to a bed, that the truck outside exploded, the noise deafening. Some of the nurses around her fell to the ground, covering their heads, their screams echoing past her. But Lucy simply cringed and refused to surrender to her fear, taking the hand of the soldier who’d whispered to her in the dark only moments earlier.

  ‘Shhh,’ she whispered, the noise outside and around them subsiding. ‘Everything’s going to be fine. We’ve got you.’

  One of his eyes was so badly swollen he couldn’t see from it, but there was a glint in his other eye that told her he might just pull through. A doctor cut through his trouser leg and she glanced down, saw it was bloody and hoped he wouldn’t lose it. Then as he lifted his hand to her, the one she hadn’t held earlier, she saw it was covered in blood, too.

  ‘Your hand,’ she said, ‘let me—’

  Lucy didn’t have the chance to inspect it, the doctor across from her yelling before she finished her sentence, ‘Gunshot wound! Let’s get this bullet out.’

  She stared at the soldier, the man she’d fought to save, saw his eye flutter, saw his dark red blood covering her hands.

  Please don’t die. She held her breath, feeling a connection with the man lying in front of her, wanting to do anything, something, to save him. She wasn’t going to lose this one, not after what they’d done to save him.

  ‘Nurse! He’s losing blood.’

  She moved quickly, leaning across his body, applying pressure to the wound now spurting out blood. He was losing too much; something was wrong.

  ‘Into surgery. Let’s go.’

  ‘Lucy, you need to get some sleep.’

  She blinked and focused on the person standing over her. She lifted her head, hadn’t realised she’d slumped forward. How long had she been like this?

  ‘Scarlet?’ She rubbed her knuckles into her eyes.

  ‘Come on. This might be the only chance you get to rest. You can’t sit with him for ever.’

  She put her hands on the side of the bed and pushed back. It was a wonder she’d been allowed to sit for so long without being reprimanded.

  ‘I wish she could.’

  The sound of a deep, husky male voice made Lucy freeze.

  ‘He’s awake!’ Scarlet gasped.

  Lucy stared down at the soldier, his one open eye trained on hers. ‘I can’t believe you’ve pulled through,’ she said, amazed at the man staring back at her and now also feeling incredibly embarrassed about falling asleep over him.

  ‘Water,’ he managed. His accent was American.

  She reached for water and Scarlet helped to hold him up slightly so she could tip a little into his mouth. He gulped it down and she let him have more.

  ‘You’re so lucky to be alive,’ she muttered. ‘I didn’t think . . .’ Her voice trailed off.

&nbs
p; ‘You saved me,’ he croaked. ‘I’ll never forget your voice. Never.’

  She stared down at him, shaking her head, close to laughing. How could a man who’d been so close to death be talking to her like this?

  ‘I hate to break this up, but your nightingale here needs some rest, and I’m going to be the one to drag her away.’

  Scarlet’s hand closed over her shoulder and Lucy knew there was no point fighting her. She looked around, saw how full the hospital was even though for some reason there had been a slight reprieve in wounded arriving.

  ‘Will you make sure he has something to eat?’ she asked Scarlet.

  ‘Yes. Now go.’

  Lucy took one last look at the soldier, squeezed his hand when he reached out to her, then turned and walked away. Of all the patients she’d had, all the men she’d seen die and suffer around her, there was something about him. Something that gave her hope and made her want to do anything she could to save him.

  ‘His name,’ she muttered, turning back.

  She stopped, met Scarlet’s gaze for a moment and saw her bend low over him.

  ‘Soldier, what’s your name?’ Scarlet asked.

  Lucy watched. Scarlet shook her head and lowered again.

  ‘Soldier? Tell us your name.’ Scarlet stood up. ‘He keeps shaking his head. I’ll ask him again later.’

  Lucy slipped away then, too tired to worry. The past forty-eight hours had been a blur, with hundreds upon hundreds of injured soldiers arriving. But for some reason, the American soldier was still there, hadn’t been airlifted out or sent home.

  She walked across the wooden plank, numb, and so tired she could hardly lift her feet one after the other. The only thing she could think about other than sleep was that he’d better darn well still be alive when she went back.

  Lucy stretched and stifled a yawn as she walked into the hospital. It had been a long week, and instead of staying in bed a little longer on the one morning she didn’t have to report for work at the crack of dawn, here she was. She looked around, relieved that the number of patients being admitted had steadily slowed. If they’d kept taking in hundreds like they had been . . . She shuddered, the motion sending goose pimples down her spine. It was awful.

  She walked down to where she knew she’d find him – her one and only reason for coming in so early. His outline in the bed was becoming familiar, as was the brightness in his gaze and the big smile he seemed to reserve for her. She had no idea why she was so drawn to him, but she was telling herself that it was the fact she’d helped to save him. That if it hadn’t been for her actions, he might be dead instead of being nursed back to health.

  ‘Hey, gorgeous.’

  Lucy tried not to smile at his upbeat words, but it was impossible. Maybe it was his American accent, but every single time he spoke to her like that he melted her heart. She chewed her lip. All this time being immune to the charm of soldiers, and here she was, grinning like a schoolgirl. It was ridiculous, but after months of being focused on nothing other than work, she kind of liked it.

  ‘You’re sounding chipper today,’ she commented, checking his chart out of habit before looking down at him.

  He winked and she noticed that the swelling round his right eye was finally starting to disappear. Now she could look into a pair of gorgeous, twinkling brown eyes instead of just the one.

  ‘It’s this beautiful nurse I have. If you had her you’d be smiling all day, too.’

  She turned and looked over her shoulder, playing along, pretending to look for someone. ‘I can’t see her. Who’s this nurse you keep talking about, soldier?’

  Lucy’s laughter died in her throat when his fingers closed over hers, lightly but very much connecting with her. She had no idea where her witty response had come from, but it certainly didn’t sound like her!

  ‘She’s right here, believe it or not,’ he said in a low voice, almost a whisper.

  Lucy sighed and looked into his eyes, meeting his gaze. She hated the way he made her feel and loved it at the same time. She’d never been shy around men, and had managed to hold her own through her training and the time she’d already spent abroad, but something about this man made her feel differently. She should have known better than to have feelings for a Yank; she knew all about their sweet talking, and besides, there were so many things he didn’t remember, things she . . .

  Lucy took a deep breath and squeezed his fingers back lightly before pulling away. She reached into his top pocket and pulled out a small photo, the image of which continued to haunt her every time she had a spare moment to herself or before she fell asleep.

  ‘Have you thought any more about this lovely young woman?’

  The woman in the picture had blonde hair, plaited into a long braid that framed a beautiful face. Her dark eyes were friendly, mouth pulled into a gentle smile.

  And the handsome man in front of her had no idea who she was.

  ‘Thought? Yes. But I still don’t remember anything. I mean, I have flashes, but . . .’

  The way his eyebrows knitted together, the clear confusion on his face, made Lucy pull back. She wasn’t going to push him. He’d suffered a head trauma, been through hell and back, and she just had to hope for his sake that his memory started to return sooner than later.

  ‘Whoever she is, I’m sure she’s anxiously waiting for news of you.’

  He smiled. ‘Maybe. I just . . .’ His voice trailed off. ‘It’s a strange thing to have a photograph of a woman on me and not recall a thing about her. Maybe it belonged to another man and I was carrying it for him.’

  Lucy doubted it, but she bit her tongue to stop from speaking her thoughts.

  ‘How is your arm?’

  She glanced down at the small bandage covering the skin across her forearm before answering him. ‘It was only a bad graze. It will be fine.’ At the time she hadn’t even realised what had happened, but with it bandaged the small wound didn’t bother her.

  ‘Doc told me I don’t have to have my food all mashed up today,’ he said, voice cheery again.

  Lucy laughed. ‘Well, good. I was getting tired of having to do that for you every time.’

  They sat quietly, listening to the sounds of war that weren’t so very far away.

  ‘I have some time off this morning,’ she told him. ‘I’ll be going to town and my friend Scarlet wants to enquire about her fiancé again – see if there’s been any news.’

  Her soldier nodded. She hated that she didn’t know his name, that she constantly ran through different men’s names in her mind trying to find one that suited him. Although compared to the mystery of the woman in the photo, this wasn’t anywhere near as worrying.

  ‘Go and get away from here,’ he said, his smile kind as he looked up at her. ‘It’ll be hell again in here soon and if you don’t go, they’ll end up calling you in.’

  She nodded, her cheeks flushing with heat when he caught her eye again. He was right. But for some strange reason, she didn’t like the thought of leaving him, and for a girl who’d never bothered with men or spent every waking hour imagining the man of her dreams, it rattled her.

  ‘I’ll see you soon, then,’ Lucy said, patting his hand as she went to move away.

  His fingers caught hers again.

  ‘What? No goodbye kiss? What if I die while you’re gone and you regret not kissing me for the rest of your life?’

  Lucy swatted him away, pleased that he was in such good humour today. After what he’d been through, he was so lucky simply to be alive.

  ‘No kisses. Not with a photo of your sweetheart in your pocket.’

  She patted his hand, letting her fingers linger for a moment too long and then quickly withdrawing them. This man had a sweetheart. He was flirting with her and she needed to remember that he was taken. She’d never had her heart broken before, and she wasn’t about to let it happen now. Lucy sighed. Maybe she needed to talk to the girls about him. They probably knew a lot more than her about this type of thing.
/>   She knew Scarlet would be waiting for her, so she kept walking, not looking back, trying not to think about why the man she was leaving for the day already meant so much to her. She’d assisted in his surgery, bathed him, fed him, watched over him. But then she’d done that with countless soldiers since she’d arrived – cared for them and whispered kind words as she tried to ease their suffering, doing whatever she could. Handsome men, crippled men, crying men, smiling men. But this man . . . maybe it was something to do with rescuing him. It had to be. Because she wasn’t the kind of girl to get all hot under the collar about a man she’d just met.

  ‘Ready to go?’ Scarlet called out from up ahead, emerging from the toilets.

  Lucy groaned, realising that she too needed to relieve herself before they headed off.

  ‘Give me a couple minutes. Is Ellie coming?’

  Scarlet smiled. ‘I’m about to haul her out of bed. I’m so pleased we covered shifts for her because she’s slowly coming out of it. I think.’

  Lucy smiled back and kept walking along the plank. Getting ready was a matter of rolling out of bed and not much more here. There was precious little time to spend on ablutions before work began for the day or night, other than to brush one’s hair and ensure it was neat. They had a bucket of water a day for all purposes, which usually meant there was only a small tin to spare for the quick washes they had in their overcrowded tent. But then, she’d gone weeks without hot water now, so she was starting to get used to it.

  She held her breath as she gritted her teeth and pulled the screen door, entering the toilet area.

  Going without water was one thing, but this . . . A bite-sized lump of vomit rose in her throat and she stoically swallowed it down.

  This was the depths of hell, the bowels of disgustingness.

  This was what she’d never, ever get used to.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Ellie

  The wind was cool against her cheeks as she walked, and Ellie was the closest to happy that she’d been in a long while. She was away from the hospital, from the smell of blood and dead soldiers that usually haunted every moment of her every day. She’d woken to Scarlet shaking her gently and passing her a cup of their awful Compo tea, and it had been the first time she’d swallowed it down without wanting to moan. Maybe she was getting used to it. Rumour had it that they’d be able to pay for a hot bath and a real coffee in town, and she’d been looking forward to it for days. Anything would be better than tea made from dehydrated tea, milk and sugar that all came in one big cube and was brewed in a bucket. It made her stomach churn even thinking about the bucket being passed around the entire tent.

 

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