Alice squinted down at her stitching as she pulled taut the heavy wool jacket. "I think I fucked up some of the stitching."
Cable was fiddling with something small and metallic across the table and didn't look up at her. "Some irregularity is good – flawless is too noticeable."
She laid down the coat among the hundred other objects on the floor – some perfect replicas, some vintage from eBay – and checked off the final box on her massive checklist. "I think that's everything."
"One more thing," Cable handed Alice the object he had been tinkering with: a small circular lapel pin.
"Thanks?" Alice said hesitantly. "What is it?"
Cable reached over and demonstrated flipping the cover off to reveal a tiny orange button. "When the mission's done, hit the button. If it works, I'll be able to extract you back to the correct time."
"If it works?" Alice squinted skeptically.
Cable shrugged. "Time travel isn't predictable."
She was flabbergasted, holding the button a little further from her body as if it were entirely to blame for her predicament. "Isn't that the whole damn point of this?" Alice waved her arms around for emphasis.
Perpetually unflappable, Cable flipped the tiny lid shut as he further explained; "Think of it like running on ice – short hops don't do much, but when you work up a good head of steam it takes a while to slide to a stop. But I'll drop you at the right time; don't you worry your pretty little head."
"So you're going to kick me out of the van as you're speeding down the highway? And pick me up in the same way?" Alice examined the tiny time travel pin. The lid was almost invisible unless placed under intense scrutiny. "Why do I feel like you excessively simplified that for my benefit?"
Cable snorted. "Because I did."
Alice stuck her tongue out in defiance. Cable did not comment.
"Run it by me again," he ordered.
"I'm Second Lieutenant Alice Shaw, Army Nurse Corps, assigned to the 111th Field Hospital."
"Why not a Fixed Hospital?" he shot instantly.
Alice was ready. "I showed, and I quote, 'substantial resilience under pressure' in training."
"Got your papers?" Cable asked, and Alice pulled them from her breast pocket. The wool of her jacket still scraped uncomfortably against her knuckles with the motion. Cable glanced at them only briefly before turning his attention to the spread of her equipment on the floor. "You're bringing a lot of crap with you."
"Not a lot of crap available once I get to the 111th," Alice retorted, pushing past him to start packing.
"Don't you know you have to carry all of that around?" Cable smirked, crossing his arms to clearly demonstrate he had no intention of helping her.
"Gee – I hadn't thought of that. I figured I might just pop down to the nearest CVS once I got there and pick up a few bottles of rubbing alcohol and a bag of chips." Alice's tone was saltier than the sea. "I've done my research, Cable. This will be Hell on Earth."
Cable grunted. "Good."
Alice paused in her pursuit of clipping down the flap of her bag. "Good what?"
"Good that you know." He turned on his heel, headed for the narrow door of her apartment and, ultimately, the hammock he had slung up in the barn below. "Get some sleep; big day tomorrow."
Alice sat up in bed, book open and propped up on her thighs, Julian deep asleep pressed against her side. Every so often he would make a little 'mrrr' sound, shift, and stretch his paws out. It was adorable. Alice's heart constricted painfully at the thought of leaving her fluffy companion alone for so long, but Cable had reminded her on more than one occasion that – in reality – she would only be gone from present day for a few hours at most. I'll be home in time for dinner, she had joked. But what if it doesn't work?
Leave the window open – he's a barn cat; he'll figure it out. Great at providing reassurance, Cable was not.
Alice shook her head, focusing on the book in her lap and adding a side note to her little field journal. Any information she wanted to bring with her needed to be scribbled in that book, and Cable expressly forbid any names, dates, or places of relevance.
Alice had no intention of writing down names or dates – she had those memorized easily. She used the space in her little leather-bound journal for information on the wild plants of Europe. She was going to need all the help she could get, and Google was definitely out of the question in 1943.
Pick feverfew leaves when small – approximately 4 cm in length. Dry in the shade and turn regularly for a few days to ensure fully dried. Julian stretched languidly at her side, standing with a bit of a wobble. He gave her leg a little bonk with his head and jumped off the bed. "Bye, buddy," Alice said absently.
Keep leaves whole until ready for use to ensure proper dosage. The feverfew leaves are sleepy, just like you, Alice…The words on the pages started to blur and dance in front of her as the night grew longer. Her head lolled on her neck and she sank lower into bed. "Just gotta…" she murmured, "gotta make sure…"
And she was asleep at last.
Alice was woken sharply by a loud bang from the kitchen – metal striking metal. Alice shot up in bed, both her notebook and Julian – with a startled yowl – flying off of her lap.
The source of the noise – Cable – glanced in her direction. "Oh good; you're up."
"Are you making breakfast?" Alice asked, brushing some hair out of her face.
"You don't want to eat before the Slide – trust me." Cable tossed the pan in his hand into the sink with another bang.
"Then what are you doing banging pans around?" Alice grumbled, swinging her legs out of bed.
"Banging pans around to wake you up," Cable replied. "Suit up, Shaw."
"Can't I get cleaned up first?" Alice whined.
"Better if you don't." He pressed a stack of rough-cloth clothes into her arms. "People didn't bathe every day in 1943."
"I know that," Alice snapped back as she stood. "Did you stop to think that maybe that's why I wanted one last really nice shower?" She was definitely going to miss her long, luxurious showers with scented soaps and her skincare routine.
"Don't care. Besides," Cable smirked, "you can take a shower tonight."
"Oh ha ha, you're so clever with words." Alice rolled her eyes. She disappeared into the bathroom to change, switching out her comfortable acrylic and polyester pajamas for foreign underthings and rough dyed cotton and wool. A little bit of powder on her face and bright red lipstick followed, and finally a tight braid on her hair that she could pin up under her cap.
A war-era stranger – odd to see in color, not black and white – stared back from the mirror. Her deep brown eyes were wide with apprehension, and she worried her bottom lip between her teeth, smearing the red lipstick a little. Alice rubbed the lipstick from her teeth and took a deep breath. Here we go.
Alice spun a little as she exited the bathroom, presenting herself for Cable's inspection. He nodded, satisfied, and clapped her firmly on the shoulder. "I'm proud of you, kid."
Her chest constricted and made her eyes water. "Stop it; we both know you don't have real human feelings."
Cable lifted the rucksack from the floor, pressing it into her arms. "Good luck, Alice Shaw."
Alice shouldered the bag and shrugged a few times, checking the straps of her bag. "I think I'm ready."
Cable held out his arm. "Hold on tight."
Arnold's eyes were starting to cross. Several more hours of fruitless searching was leaving him frustrated and dejected. The mystery of Alice Shaw was haunting him at all hours, and he often worked straight through lunch and past the end of the day hunting for the little blonde woman. He thought he might have seen more evidence of her lingering in the background of photographs, but he couldn't be certain it was her, and not another nurse.
Obviously out of place, but why? Arnold's thoughts were consumed by her absence, presence, and the gaps between. "Arnold!" His head snapped up – neck twisting painfully, at the stern cry from the doorway. Madeline, his erstwhile assistant, stood with her arms crossed in front of his desk.
"Haven't you finished the review yet? The exhibit opens next week!" She gave him a most disapproving stare.
Arnold held out the photo of Alice to his young assistant. "I found a mystery – do you recognize her?"
Madeline pushed her glasses up her nose and squinted at the photo. She flipped it over, examining the scribbles on the back. "Alice Shaw? I don't think so. Is she A.N.C., W.A.A.C., or A.R.C.?"
Arnold wrinkled his nose. "A.N.C.; I'm fairly certain. What I can't wrap my head around is why she's described as being with the 107th and not her assigned Field Hospital." Arnold tapped the writing on the back, staring up at Madeline's face for confirmation.
Madeline sighed deeply as she handed the photo back. "Just pull anything she's in – we'll figure it out between the opening and the six-month refresh."
"Are you sure?" Arnold was torn. "That would mean pulling the nurses' section. You don't think we should investigate-"
"Next. Week." Madeline emphasized. "No one will notice one little nurse missing – it's fine." She turned on her heel and walked out of Arnold's small office.
Arnold clutched the photo as she left, glancing down at the surprised face of the mystery nurse. He opened a drawer in his desk but hesitated before filing it away. He leaned back in his desk chair and held the photo up to the light. The nurse stared back at him, her expression locked in time.
She was haunting him somehow; a face locked in time, out of place with what he had come to understand as the typical ways of paperwork, assignments, and order.
Instead of filing the photo away, Arnold pulled a plastic photo protector from the drawer and slipped the photo inside. He tacked the plastic up on a little cork board behind his desk. He found the original photo, with her half out of frame, and did the same. Arnold drew two index cards close to him on the desk, writing 'Alice Shaw' on one, and '107th Infantry' on the second. These, too, were tacked on his cork board.
Arnold let his desk chair sink into its fullest recline as he leaned back. He rubbed his jaw with a hand idly, and considered where to begin.
A/N: Hello, readers! I've been focusing a little more on WIAS because Alice – brash and bold and full of fire – has been throwing herself at the front of my mind. I apologize if you're also reading Weaver's Hands as June has stepped respectfully to the side for a little while.
The 111th F.H. is fictitious (even if there is a real one in history, this is a fictional one), as I wanted Alice to be as close as possible to the 107th Infantry. Field Hospitals were typically only about 30 miles from the front line itself. I'll be going into very thorough descriptions of the FH in coming chapters, so no worries about that.
Do you want some DAMN EXCITING reading? Go do some research on the Army Nurse Corps and Field Hospitals – these women are BADASS!
LAST BIT – I edited the end of the second chapter for historical accuracy. See note at the bottom of Ch.2: Selling the Story for details.
Many thanks to my lone reviewer: Sanguinary Tide!
Thoughts? Questions? Shoot 'em my way in the form of a glooooorious REVIEW!