Chapter XIII:

A little excitement finally reached the little hospital where she was still stationed. For almost a month they had had nothing but minor patients heading in and out of the place. Now, they were informed that in a matter of moments, truckloads of men coming from an earlier attack would arrive. The surge that followed the news was excitement, anxiousness, and apprehension all at once.Marie promised herself she wouldn't get more involved than she needed to. Say a kind word, smile a little, and move on. No names, no questions, no nothing.

The promise was broken sooner than she'd expected. After they'd finally settled everyone into suitable beds, she began to make her rounds. A young man, no more than nineteen was alone, head tossing and turning, just coming back from unconsiousness. She took up a basin of water and a cloth and sat beside the bed. After a short scan, she realized it was his leg that was injured, and quickly set to cutting his pant leg to look at it.

It was a mess. Blood covered it in a thick layer of red that made Marie turn away momentarily. The sight was all too familiar to her, and despite the fact that her career involved seeing such things, it made her stomach turn. Upon turning back, she found that there were other problems besides the initial bullet wound she had discovered. The most distinct problem was the smell... a putrid, almost gaseous smell that did nothing to ease the already growing discomfort in her stomach.

After cleaning the blood from his leg she began to check for other symptoms. An idea formed in the back of her mind, but it was one she did not wish to pay attention to. Not at the present time anyway. Peeling off a glove, she closed her eyes to get her mind in order enough to concentrate on what she was doing. After she was comfortable, she touched his bare leg, and was startled by the cold she felt in it. A sharp gasp from her patient made her remove her hand and look up. Forcing a fake smile, she moved forward in her chair to look at him. "Hey there. Welcome back."

"Back...?"

"How you feelin'?"

"Hot..." It was not the answer she wanted to hear, but somehow, she expected it. All other signs pointed to her worst fears.

"Ah reckon you would be. Ah'm gonna put this cloth on your forehead... it'll help with tha fever." After doing so, she quickly comforted him as best she could, promising to return as soon as she could. Convinced he would be all right for the moment, she went to seek out a doctor.

"Dr.McCoy, may Ah speak with you a moment?"

"Of course." She knew he saw the startled, unhappy look on her features, because his lips quickly turned into a frown and his eyebrows curved downward. "What's the matter?"

"There's a young man, just come in from tha last attack. Bullet wound."

"Just below the knee. Yes, I saw him earlier. What of him?"

"There's a pungent smell accompanying the wound... his leg is ice cold... and he's suffering from a high fever." Marie watched as his frown grew deeper and his eyes squinted some in frustration.

"Gangrene?"

"What else could it be?" It was distressing to her. She didn't even know the boy, and already her heart went out to him. He was too young to have to handle something like this. She tried to remember the promise she made to herself as she lead the doctor back to him. She stood by his side, trying to talk to him, comfort him, and most of all block him from seeing the worry spreading over the doctor's face.

"What is it?"

"Nothin' kid... you just rest."

"Tell me."

"Shhh..." Since he couldn't see the doctor, Marie's best guess was that she wasn't hiding her emotions as well as she thought she'd been. What could she do? Tell him? Certainly not. Not right away, anyway. After hearing the doctor clear his throat, she turned from the boy and followed him out of sight.

"Gangrene?"

"Most definitely."

"What can we do about it?"

"There's only one thing to do about it. Though I hate the thought of it... we'll have to amputate. There's no other way. If we hesitate and attempt a different cure, it will only develop into a worse case and cause more trouble. If we act now, however, he'll be able to keep more of the leg."

"But doctor... he's so young..."

"There's no other way."

"Yes sir." With that, she left, slipping into her room, to write Logan a response. She needed someone to talk to, and since it couldn't be in person, a letter would have to do.

Logan,

We had a large transfer of patients today. With them came a young man... no more than nineteen. I reminded myself, after you left, that I couldn't get involved in any more lives. I couldn't care. I wouldn't care. Is that terrible of me? To disregard them as men, and to think of them as no more than cases? The man over in bed three with the eye problem... or the boy over in bed seven with the flu... It seems so wrong to me. How do you help someone if you aren't willing to care in the process? But how do you care without ending up hurt? Is there some kind of in between?

He had a bullet wound, just below the knee. Bad. I knew from the minute I stripped away the pantleg and smelled it. The cold and the fever only confirmed it. Gangrene. And there's nothing any of us can do here. There have been techniques put into practice to try and help it... but none seem to work. The only sure fire cure is amputation. I know it's the only way, Logan, but I hate it all the same. He's too young to have to live with only one leg! He has barely begun to live as it is...

It's just not fair. I know what you're thinking. "Marie, life ain't fair." All I want to know is... why not?

Keep writing Logan, it's all I've got left.

Love always,

Marie