by Eric Meyer
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The boy had found a warm place for him and the dog to shelter while they waited. The hospital boiler room, the warmest spot in Ghazni. He wiped a hole in the grime that covered the tiny window, so he could watch the activity at the front entrance. If anything happened, like people running around in panic, he'd know something was wrong, and go inside to inquire.
He was tired, very tired, and couldn't stop himself dozing in the dark, cozy warmth. His eyes flicked open when he heard the sound of a powerful diesel engine. It was a strange vehicle, with massive ground clearance. The paintwork was white with red crosses splashed on the side. He decided it would be a good vehicle for transporting emergency casualties in terrible weather over rough terrain.
They carried a gurney out of the hospital and loaded the patient on board. Then the vehicle drove away. There was no other activity, and nothing to suggest anything had changed with the kind Marina. He settled down to wait, and his eyes closed again. The dog moved into his warmth, and like sentries everywhere, beaten down by the stress of constant action, they slept.