Chapter Two
Stitches

Before they'd gone patrolling, the men had given both Alice and Bella a satellite telephone. She only needed to find a way to take it out of her pants pockets, make the call and hope someone would come and find her.

The German language was so jumbled up, but if Alice paid close attention, she could make out some similarities with the American language. She heard two similar words, sounding much like help me. But he'd said one more thing. Perhaps it was a threat, although his eyes seemed pleading.

"Don't look at me like that..."

Her eyes dropped to the ground, but that could not make her ears go dead to his shallow breaths come in and out. The pain and loss of blood were taking its toll on him.

She snapped her head up when she noticed movement. He started pushing himself to a tree only a few feet away from him. Alice looked at her surroundings. During her run she'd turned into this strange forest, though most trees seemed dead. It was a miracle she'd dodges them.

With slow and deliberate movements, the wounded Nazi leaned against the tree and let out a loud grunt. She guessed he'd made some wrong movement. Alice stared at the trail of blood, about two yards long. The trail was very thick and moist, proving Alice once again his condition was critical. He was bleeding out. They looked at each other. Her eyes kept shifting from his bright green eyes to the bleeding wound. He was dying and she could prevent.

"No! Don't remind me of the Florence Nightingale Pledge!"

He scoffed at her, probably wondering what she was saying all of a sudden in such an irritated tone. On the other hand, Alice knew that he hadn't said a thing. Still, something reminded her of the pledge she'd taken.

His eyes slowly shut. She grabbed her backpack and crawled to him quickly, careful not to touch the blood in the sand.

"You're a murderer. But I'm not! I'm going to help you."

The reluctance in her voice was something she could not hide. His eyes did not open.

"Hey!"

Only then did he crack them open to keep at her. His eyes seemed to ask her what she wanted from him.

"If you point that gun at me again, I'm going to stop. I mean it."

She glanced at the oozing wound on his stomach. It was black around the edges from the gunpowder. The bleeding had to stop before she could do anything. She wondered if the bullet's still inside him. She leaned over. His sweater and shirt were covering his back but her eyes widened when she saw a lot more blood there. The bullet had gone out of his body. It was somewhat a good thing, because she needn't take the bullet out. It also meant an exit wound. Those were often very cruel.

"Okay...okay...Lord, give me strength to do this on my own."

All the while she mumbled as she searched in her bag. She pulled out clean cloths, a bottle of morphine, one injection needle, suturing needles and thread. She grabbed two cloths. The first one she pressed against his stomach and the second on his back, even if that wound was still underneath his shirt and sweater. It would work in her benefit to stop the bleeding.

The stance she'd taken was uncomfortable, on her heels while she tried to maintain distance. Her ankles wobbled and she found herself losing her balance hard. She fell on her knees. The Nazi's hand came on top of her shoulder, but not in a painful squeeze. He was steadying her. Her shocked eyes went up. He was watching her with slightly raised eyebrows.

"Uh...it's a through and through. I'm just going to press until the bleeding stops."

Rambling was what Alice would do when she made a fool of herself in front of a dangerous man. His hand released her shoulder and she saw him lean his head against the tree and close his eyes again. For the first time she really looked at him. His hair was cut short, but not as short as you'd expect from a soldier. Therefor she saw it was not just plain brown, but rather a dark blonde. His face was chiseled, with that same dark blonde color on his slightly strict looking eyebrows. Unless when he looked like he did now, seemingly relaxed. Than his eyebrows almost made him look like an innocent man.

"Hopefully this won't work and you'll die of too much blood loss."

He might look innocent, but Alice knew better.

The minutes passed slowly and Alice started getting tired from pressing all the time in her uncomfortable position. Her knees were aching as they pressed in the hard ground. Her wrist and lower back still hurt from where he'd manhandles her. But she knew that fresh bullet wounds needed time to stop bleeding.

"You killed my fiancée and my two best friends. You don't even deserve my help."

Blood started dripping all over her hands, so she pressed harder into the wound. It wasn't because she was a sadist, but because his wounds weren't stopping their downpour. It wasn't working. If the bleeding kept going like this, he'd soon lose consciousness.

"Look what I'm doing, preventing this wound from becoming your well-deserved death."

She glanced at her bag, debating if she should keep pressing or get another dry piece of cloth. Maybe she could just go ahead with stitching the exit wound. Her eyes dared up briefly, to his face. His eyes were still closed but now his face was contorted in pain.

"Can you uh...put your hand on this? Hello? Hey?"

He wasn't budging so she put her soaking red hand on top of his free one. Her hand came very close to that gun in his tight grip. She almost touched it. It didn't matter though. What would she do with a gun? She brought his to the wound on his abdomen.

"Press. It'll prolong your death."

He tried to press, but not as hard as he should for the wound to stop bleeding.

Insulting him over and over again in her beautiful language wasn't a very nice thing to do, but he didn't speak English anyway. It didn't do him any harm. Even if he knew English, this kind of people had no emotions. She wouldn't be able to hurt his feelings.

"Press harder."

It was her guilty conscience who made her say that. She pushed his hand against the entrance wound, until he complied with a sigh.

Oh, she was going mad. One second she was insulting him, and the next she felt guilty for doing so. He killed her fiancée and two friends.

"The exit wound is bigger and it was bleeding more profusely. I'm going to work on that one first."

Jacob was dead, her dear fiancée was gone and she couldn't even remember the last thing she told him. She wanted the one responsible for his death to be punished.

"I need to see it first before I know what I'm up to."

The Nazi's head turned but she refused to look at him. Her voice was monotone. Her guilty mind was starting to eat her alive.

She started lifting the shirt and sweater until it exposed skin that was damaged. The wound was ugly, about two inches, give or take. Alice pressed her fingers near his kidneys, but it seemed not to have pierced any of that. He'd need stitches, five at least.

Her hand reached to the bottle of morphine and needle. It was the only painkiller she had, but also the strongest and most effective one. The Nazi would not complain.

"Warte nur," he said, his voice strained. "Wie viel Nähen brauche ich?"

Alice was about to pull open a sterile needle from its packet, while muttering, "I don't know what makes you think I have a clue what you're saying."

His clean hand came on top of hers, preventing Alice from doing her job. He took the packet out of her hand and threw it back in her bag. Then he took the bottle of morphine as well and added it carefully in her bag, as if he tried for the glass bottle not to break.

He raised a finger, and said, "Ein?" He pointed two fingers, three fingers, four fingers, while continuing with saying, "Zwei? Drei? Vier?"

Then he pointed at the needle and thread.

"Wie viel?"

"Oh, at least uh...five," she muttered, raising five fingers, assuming he was asking about the amount of stitches.

The morphine was now in her bag and she stared at it for a moment. She pointed at her bag and looked at him.

"That's morphine."

"Danke, aber nein. Kein Morphium."

He shut his eyes and leaned forward, giving her easier access to the exit wound. He wanted her to continue.

"Are you...are you refusing pain medication?"

To expect an answer was silly. Still it made Alice's confused mind wonder. This had never happened before, never. It was a question she never asked before. Nobody ever refused. Why would they?

Slowly, Alice poured some disinfecting alcohol on a cloth.

"This'll sting..."

Deciding she'd rather to it quick, she pressed the soaking wet disinfecting cloth on his pierced skin. He flinched. She was cleaning the wound quickly, but thoroughly, because she'd vowed to her God to help all in need.

"You wanted my help," she said sarcastically. "The least you could do is stay still!"

He turned his head to her, but she kept her eyes on the wound as she removed her hand and took hold of her suture needle and thread out of the box, where they could stay clean.

For some reason it did something to Alice. He was feeling a lot of pain right now and it would be worse once she started suturing his skin. His pain didn't make her feel better. If possible, she thought it made her feel worse than before.

"It's a gaping wound, lots of skin and muscle damage. I'm going to pull the edges to each other and start..."

Unsure why she chose to glance at him, maybe it was out of curiosity, but she saw his eyes were on the needle.

"I'll be quick."

His eyes rose up, no emotion in them.

Her chest rose him in a deep breath. It was not her job to reassure him.

She pressed the open skin to each other and hear a loud hiss. He was having trouble keeping still. Her fingers moved fast. The first stitch was in, the second wasn't as nicely done as she wanted it to, so she tried to make the third one larger. The fourth and fifth were too close to one another, but at least the wound stayed shut. This wound would scar nastily.

"Done."

Again his head turned, but Alice kept her eyes low, turning to his stomach. This one might be tricky. There was sensitive skin there and Alice needed to check if the bullet caused damage. Her hands were covered with his blood, but it was no use cleaning them. She took hold of the wet cloth and he dropped his hand on the ground. He seemed weak. Carefully she looked at the wound and to her surprise the bleeding had stopped. That would make the process of suturing much easier.

Because this wound wasn't causing life threatening damage, she started pressing in different parts of his stomach and under his ribs. He seemed soar, but the damage wasn't fatal. The Nazi was lucky. He would survive this wound.

"No organ damage, unfortunately."

He was staring ahead of himself. She envied him, because he had faraway look in his eye. Momentarily he wasn't in this war any longer. That was strange because men like him enjoyed the war.

"Morphine?" she asked to pull him back into the present.

"Nein," he said harshly.

With a new soaking disinfecting cloth, she pressed it on the wound, hearing a prominent hiss.

"Clean," she exclaimed, throwing the cloth next to the other bloody supplies. "I suppose about three sutures."

With her thumb on top of her pinkie, she raised her hand to him and showed him three fingers.

He nodded.

She quickly pressed the wound closed and pierced his skin with the suture needle, giving him quickly three sutures. They were all uneven, but again it would be enough to keep the wound shut.

"The worst is done. To prevent infection, all you'll need is some of this," she took her iodide and squeezed a large amount on the wound on his stomach, "and the wound packed tightly."

She did the same with the exit wound, as soon as her rough, but small hands could work.

"Alright, almost done. Can you stand?"

Of course, he didn't respond.

First she took the bandage from her backpack, then she got on her feet. Having no idea how else to show him what she wanted from him, she held out her hand reluctantly. Partly she hoped he'd get the point and get on his feet without her help. His hand engulfed hers and he slowly started to get up. He was weak on the legs.

"Hold this," she said.

She held out the bandage to him until he finally took it. With another free hand in her possession, she placed it under his elbow and put her strength into raising him up. Lord, the man was heavy. Her hands had his dried up blood all over it, but that was not what was on her mind. He seemed, in that small moment, to trust her. She could try and run, especially now that he was wounded and in so much pain. Alice knew that she couldn't outrun bullets. She could run and hope he'd kill her.

"I could try...my team's not so far from here."

Then she was reminded of how intimidating he was and that she'd already helped him out mostly. Wrapping a bandage around your middle wasn't a very difficult thing to do for yourself. If she ran now, he'd survive and she would die. That wasn't what Alice wanted.

"Everyone will be ashamed of me. Myself included. No, I must try and make the call. When I get the chance, I'll take the satellite phone and call my team."

The Nazi was staring at her.

"If only I knew where I was. Can't ask for help if you don't know your location."

Her face froze when she looked at the Nazi closely. He wasn't just staring at her. It seemed like he was listening to her. She had momentarily forgotten that even though he spoke no English, that he could still catch a few words.

She was almost waiting for some explosion, as if he'd yell at her in those German words and run his hands over her body until he found her satellite phone.

Instead he extended his hand to give her the bandage. She took it out of his hand roughly. She pulled out about a yard of the bandage and stopped her movement. In order to put the bandage around him, she'd need to put her arms around him. Several times.

"I can be quick..."

Her arms encircled his waist and she almost winced at the close proximity. He'd raised his arms a little to allow her better access.

"Dear God, help me..."

As a patient, he was excellent. Especially since he wasn't numbed. The first wrap was loose, but the second time she wrapped the bandage around his hips, she waited momentarily.

"Tighter?"

She pulled the bandage a little.

"Tighter?" she asked again.

He nodded, luckily understanding her question.

"Say stop, okay? If it's too tight."

Carefully she pulled until he stopped her with his hands.

"Ja, danke."

That wasn't the deal, for him to touch her. And he definitely didn't say stop, but she assumed his words meant something like stop.

One more wrap, and they repeated the process to tighten the bandage. Again those large hands stopped her as she pulled instead of simply saying stop. Now she needed to cut the remaining bandage. She needed her scissors, which were somewhere in her backpack.

"Hier."

She looked up and saw he'd taken a pocket knife. She stepped back and let him cut the bandage off himself. He threw the remaining of it in her backpack. His other hand held the loose end unto his stomach. He hided the pocketknife again.

"Here, I have-"

But she stopped abruptly, realizing they'd both said a word that sounded much like here. It was strange. She never knew languages had quite a few similarities. She shook it off and dug her hand into her pockets. She kept most of her safety pins in there. She stepped forward again and tied the pieces together with three safety pins, so the bandage would keep his wounds packed tightly.

"Danke."

The word didn't sound like any English word, but she heard gratitude in his tone.

Now what was her purpose? Taking the phone wasn't an option if he kept watching her like a hawk. Then again, she was keeping a close eye on him as well. He pulled his clothes down over the bandage. Next he buttoned up his coat and took his discarded backpack. It didn't seem light, or comfortable, when he put it on his back.

As if on cue, his gun was raised at her again.