Good morning/day/evening! I'm finally back, and the story continues! :)
But, before we move on to Jess and the lads from Easy, I have to thank these amazing people: Velanburg (Don't worry, your review wasn't bad at all. It was mind-blowing! Thank you so much for taking your time to write it. :) And thank you for saying that Jess is a badass character. That was a wonderful surprise. As for the others acknowledging what she did, there will be a "scene" dealing with this bit, but in one of the future chapters. By the way, I'm thrilled after finding out that you like Renée and Jess's friendship. And you're right, it is only a matter of time before they find out that they both know a certain medic. ;) When it comes to Jess and him, they will certainly see each other. :) Have a wonderful day! P. S. 'Choc' is completely fine. :) ), Cayendoenelolvido (Hello! And muchas gracias por tus lindas palabras! It's incredibly kind of you. :) I'm glad to be back, too. I really missed writing more about Gene, Jess and the others. I hope you're ready, because two of your favourite characters will meet very soon. :) ) and Theo (Welcome to the story! I'm so sorry for making you wait so long. I can't tell you exactly when the next chapter will be done, because I will be preparing for my exams during the following weeks. But, I promise I'll get back to writing as soon as possible. ;) ).
Also, many thanks go to: Lina1998, KiranaHaruka, JosieoftheRose, HorrorFan13, caligirl538, A. H-Currahee, lullabyJN and LeesFreak112 for the favourites and follows (and both!). Finding out that someone new came across this story always makes my day. :)
There is one more thing I would like to share with you. A while ago, an incredibly talented artist named Sonja made a drawing of Jess and Gene on her Tumblr. If you have time, please take a look. You can find it here. (Just don't forget to remove the brackets. ;) )
http[:][/][/]lives-in-a-harpsichord.[tumblr].com[/]post[/]162445706885[/]a-request-by-an-anon-fulfilled-doc-from-a-band
Disclaimer: I do not own Band of Brothers. This piece of writing is purely for entertainment. It is based on the HBO miniseries, and no disrespect is meant towards the real men of Easy Company.
Chapter Forty-Three – This Is How It Ends
When Bill traipsed into the church the following day, his trademark grin was gone. His face was twisted in a grimace, with an unnatural flush across his cheeks as I helped him settle down on the floor. He was also unsteady on his feet. To keep himself from stumbling, he threw an arm around my waist before he slowly, cautiously made his way into a sitting position. I then became aware of how warm he was, which was odd for someone who had been outside barely a minute ago.
"For chrissake, I told you to take care of yourself." I reached out to feel his forehead with the back of my hand. Sadly, that only confirmed my suspicions. With a high fever like that, it was no wonder why he seemed so washed out. "Uh, Bill? Do you know where you are?"
"Oh, auntie Em. There's no place like home." After a moment of silence, he gave a weak smile. I returned the gesture by throwing a glare at him, and he snickered. "Relax, Jess. I'm still functioning. And I can still take a mean swing if I wanna."
"I don't think you're capable of taking a swing at anything right now."
He sent me a dark look. However, since it was difficult for him even to keep his eyes open, he appeared more sleepy than intimidating.
"Hey, this isn't my first time goin' down with a cold. Jus' tell the nurses to give me some pills or – or somethin'. I gotta go back to the fellas before they come up with any crazy ideas."
"You're not going back like this, trust me. Not before we get that fever down." I loosened the scarf around his neck, pulling it off. He didn't need to get any warmer than he already was. "Do you think you could handle some soup? A nurse from here made some."
"That sounds good. Don't get me wrong, Jessie, but I've got more faith in your flyin'. Your cookin' is another story."
Is he serious? "Name one time when my cooking went wrong."
"There was the fish an' chips incident in Aldbourne." He thought for some time, counting on his fingers. "And the Irish soup episode – I think Toye singed an eyebrow there. And of course –"
"Well, that's not fair. I told you to name just one time."
He didn't have time to retort, since he dug his nose into his sleeve and let out a sneeze, loud enough to startle a priest walking by. While the second sneeze rang out, I scrabbled about in my pockets. I didn't have a handkerchief to give, but I pulled out a bandage I had forgotten to pack with the rest, handing it over to Bill. That should do the trick for a while. However, he didn't take it from me. Instead, he simply gazed at it, in a way when a person wasn't entirely focused on the present.
"I've been thinkin' a lot", he admitted eventually. "About the patrol."
So, that's it. Damn it, Bill. The first thing that crossed my mind was stopping him right there. Letting him dwell on that couldn't be more wrong. Of course, what had happened to Julian was sad, but recalling that day repeatedly wouldn't bring him back. Yet, there was something in his look that compelled me to say nothing, and to listen to what he had to say. That was why I waited, despite my misgivings.
"I kinda had an idea. Promise you won't start laughin', alright?"
"You have my word. Now, what is it about?"
"I thought of leavin' some of my stuff here, with you and the nurses. It's not much. A couple of pictures from home, a lighter, my old man's compass. I wanna make sure the guys won't split them up among themselves if get myself KIA, too."
"Don't be daft. You're not going to die here."
"Henry was also confident, almost like you. 'I'll be back in time for the next Thanksgiving', he said. 'Until then, hands off my bike, shorty.'" He made a low chuckle that sounded more like a huff. "Ya know that my folks didn't find out what happened to him?"
His voice thickened a bit with the last sentence. In the meantime, I felt my mouth quickly turning dry. Back in that café in Mourmelon, the blokes from the 42nd had mentioned Bill's brother, though not too fondly. However, Bill himself hadn't talked about him in ages. Come to think of it, the last time I had heard him say his name was after finding that letter in England. I can't believe it. Has it really been seven months?
"I wrote to my ma and pa. They got the telegraph and all, but nobody told 'em what exactly happened to Henry in Italy. He was gone, and that was it. That was all they got." He looked up at me, more adamant than I had ever seen him. "So, if this is how it ends for me, send my stuff home, to South Philly. I'll give ya the address."
"I'm not sending anything, because you'll stay in one piece."
He clicked his tongue. "You can't know that."
"Do you remember your joyriding episode, in Holland?"
"There were a lot of 'em. Which one are we talkin' about?"
"The one where you broke your leg and ended up being shipped to England." According to his grim expression, he remembered every bit of it. "You promised me something before you left. When our work here is done, you'd visit Paris with me, to see the sights. Until then, no German will get to shoot you. Only I get to shoot you."
"You say the sweetest things to me, Jessie Prichard." Sad to say, it wasn't long until he hid behind his carefree facade. "If you can, write my pa a letter. I promised to tell him everything, even the bad parts."
It would be easier to lift the siege single-handedly than dissuade him. That was obvious. Nevertheless, my heart wrenched from the look on his face, determined, sad, yet full of hurt at the same time.
"All right. If the worst comes to the worst – which is a rather big if – I'll send the things. Are you happy?" Only then did I notice his raised eyebrow. "Don't tell me I said something wrong."
"You didn't. I jus' thought I'd argue with you much longer."
"Believe it or not, I do have some understanding."
He made a lopsided smile. "And sass, I see."
I was about to counter that when I noticed Anna rushing towards us. Adjusting the flowery scarf she had around her head, she halted right beside me, and that was when I realised how distraught she looked. Bill, on the other hand, smiled a bit wider at the sight of her.
"Renée a besoin de votre aide. C'est urgent." Although I didn't understand much, I caught the name. The tone of her voice sounded quite hurried for some reason, but it really picked up speed once she saw my reluctance. "Je m'occuperai de lui. Vas-y! Vas-y!"
Hastily scrambling to my feet, wincing as I did so, I hobbled to the less shady end of the church Anna was pointing at. But, once I made a turn at the corner, I didn't see Renée anywhere. I stumbled upon one of the wounded, instead, a private most likely. He was lying on an old rickety desk placed in the middle of the room, both of his hands holding down his stomach. The amount of blood soaking his shirt was disturbing, but I got confused by the light-coloured, winding things that peered under his fingers. The real dread came once I recognised them as an intestine.
"They've brought him in from the line. Trauma pénétrant." Renée darted out of the shadows behind me, carrying medical supplies with her. "I'm doing all I can, but I need a second pair of hands, and I need them now. I hope you're ready, anglais."
I suddenly found myself unable to move. "What?"
"Come on. Hurry." She didn't slow down at all while rushing past me. But, she turned around for a short moment, only to toss me an I. V. kit, and I caught it in my trembling hands. "Have they taught you about this in England? Good. Get over here."
I staggered to the desk. "B–But, who told you that?"
"I heard that colonel talking to you. I was working nearby at the time." Her apologetic look shifted into a frown. "Allez, Jess!"
This is a sodding nightmare. If I was ready for something, it was for getting sick there and then, not for treating the wounded. A glance at the man's stomach made everything seem ten times worse. Drawing in a slow breath, and silently praying not to chunder, I quickly rolled his sleeve up in search of a vein.
"Oh, G–God–" The private let out a hoarse, drawn-out groan. The kind that made my toes curl in my boots.
"You're gonna be fine. You're gonna be fine, you hear me?" If he would really be fine, I didn't have the faintest idea. I was struggling enough just to stay focused. Yet, I somehow got by with the I. V. line, using the back rest of a chair as a place to drape it from. "Renée, did you – did he get any morphine?"
"What's left is with docteur Thys. But, that's for surgeries only."
A chill ran down my spine. Looking away, I saw her pressing a pad of gauzes against the private's stomach, steadfastly ignoring his whimpers. But, that didn't seem to be helping. That pad, at least the parts of it visible underneath her hands, were already turning dark red. I hurriedly glanced around, finding more gauze stacked in the drawer below the desk. Though the stash wasn't much, it had to be enough for now.
"Hands up!" The second Renée moved them, I pushed the clean pads on top of the wet one, re-applying pressure with a cringe. "Holy mother of – look, we need a doctor in here. We can't do this on our own!"
"Docteur Thys is busy. But, someone's coming. He'll help."
While she was checking the man's pulse, I slowly realised how his groans were growing faint. He was starting to drift out of consciousness, turning ghastly pale as shock took over. Renée grasped his shoulder to bring him round, but there was little else she could do. Meanwhile, the gauzes I was holding were turning from dry to drenched too fast and, with each passing second, I was getting more scared that he wouldn't make it.
It was becoming hard to keep myself together when I heard steps. All of a sudden, somebody turned up next to me, holding out more pads for me to take. The hand clenching them was flaky from the cold, tinged with a purplish hue. I assumed that was one of Renée's friends from the town, so I raised my head to mutter a quick thanks. Those words never got out, though, since my mouth chose to go agape.
Eugene was staring back at me with wide eyes.
"Les enfants, je prends le relais. On a besoin de vous trois a la porte. (I'm taking over from here, kids. You three are needed at the door.)"
I couldn't help but jump a as another person ran into the transept. The tired, craggy face of doctor Thys, the only doctor I had seen in the church so far, abruptly appeared at Renee's side. While another, equally weary medic sped after him, Thys rattled an entire string of French that I couldn't figure out. But, then Renée backed away from the desk, beckoning Eugene and me to come after her. That could only mean the two blokes were here to relieve us.
Thank Christ. Suppressing a shiver, I drew back as well and lumbered out into the nave. However, I barely made a few steps before I had to stop. Even though we were out of the transept, I could still hear those man's moans inside my head. I attempted to will them away by closing my eyes shut, to switch my attention to something else. Yet, the second I did that, an image of him flashed through my mind, prone on that wobbly desk, so vivid that my my stomach churned in an instant.
Having made a beeline for the nearby bucket, I picked up some water with my hands and began scrubbing them together, in an almost desperate try to wash the blood away. And that didn't turn out to be easy, since they didn't stop shaking. Holding the soap I had found was a task I could barely manage, until it slipped out of my hold, making me swear under my breath. I left it there in the end, wherever it had landed.
"Renée, do you think he's gonna pull through?", I asked.
I could already guess the answer by her expression.
"It's hard to tell. But, we can't stop now. Le docteur wants us at the front door." She wrung her hands together, trailing into a sullen silence, before she turned to the place where Eugene was standing. "Jess, I want you to meet Eugene Roe. Eugene, meet Jess. Her avion, uh, tombée en panne (broke down) not far from here."
He slowly nodded at that. "I know."
However, he wasn't looking at Renée. His gaze was fixed on me, turning slightly darker while he took in my battered appearance. But, he didn't fare much better than me. During the few days we had spent apart, his complexion had become pasty, showing a man who had seen little to no sunlight. He hadn't been seeing much sleep, either, if his bloodshot eyes were anything to go by.
Renée gaped at both of us, clearly in disbelief.
"You two know each other? How?"
He breathed a sigh, finally facing her and not me. "We fought together in France. And Holland for a while."
"You fought together." The nurse repeated at a slower pace, as if she was making sure she had heard that correctly. Once Eugene confirmed, she narrowed her eyes at us. "Tu rigoles. (You're kidding me.) You're a medic and – Jess, I thought you're le pilote."
"I was his unit's air support. But, that doesn't mean I'd like to work with him again."
"You had to be a great team, since you're both alive. And if you didn't notice, something like that could come in handy here."
"Heh. We're a far cry from the team you're looking for."
Her brow furrowed. Yet, before she got to say anything about that, a low rumble came from the other side of the nearby window, and she whirled towards it. That noise was made by Jeeps, no more than a pair of them. And they seemed to be approaching the yard out front, probably straight from the line. At that moment, I was unsure if I was more angry at Eugene or terrified of what was about to come.
"Merde." She turned back to us, worry etched over her face. "I don't know how many of them will get here. But, we have to prepare for the worst, oui? Go to Anna. You'll work with her in triage." No sooner did she say it than she halted. "By the way, which one of you will get the clotting powder from the storage?"
"Uh – I'll go. I'll be back in a few."
Without as much as a backward glance, Eugene awkwardly broke off, rushing in the direction of the chapel. I was about to keep walking to the door, when Renée unexpectedly stopped me by grabbing my arm. Judging by how steely her gaze was, perhaps I wouldn't like what was going to happen next.
"I will not ask what's going on between you two", she promised, "It's not my business, anyway."
That wasn't so bad. "Thank you. I appreciate that."
"But, I have to know if you two can handle this without causing trouble." She leaned closer, her voice swiftly lowering to a half-whisper. "Les gens – these people – they have nowhere else to go from here. They need all the help they can get. And fighting is not something they, or any of us, can afford these days. Do you understand?"
Although her look tipped a bit to the threatening side, I didn't pull back. "Fine. I'll do my best not to cause any boxing matches."
She seemed satisfied by the answer before she moved towards the end of the nave. I limped after her, hot on her heel while the door was being pushed further open in front of us. Somebody was lugging the closest pews away, clearing the area for the latest relay of wounded.
"You'll owe me for roping me into this", I added.
"Me?" She sent me a bewildered look. "That's funny, beause you owe me a new shed."
I made a face. "Why do you need a new shed?"
"Because you destroyed the old one by smashing into my yard."
I remained quiet, cottoning on what she had said. Since everything after the crash had happened so fast, I couldn't recall much of the details. Though, I could have sworn I had landed near somebody's gate. I was also sure there was a house, or at least it looked like one. And it took merely a second for the embarrassment to kick in. Oh, shit.
"That was your house, wasn't it?"
"Oui." She pondered briefly. "It's a good thing you didn't hit my bibliothèque (library). Then you would really be in trouble."
.
.
"Follow me, lads. No, not that way – over here, please."
I ambled after the stretcher-bearers, and the man they carried, searching for a vacant space at the front of the nave. I couldn't find any, though. The place had become overcrowded in less than an hour. Giving out a tired sigh, I let the orderlies walk past me and halted beside one of the remaining pews. It was occupied by a newcomer from the line, a corporal whose chest was haphazardly swathed in bandages. Having perched myself on the edge of the pew, I grasped his wrist so as to check his pulse. Only then that I found out he had none.
I reached for his neck this time, holding two fingers in place. There was still nothing to feel, not a single, feeble beat. And in the following second, something inside me clenched, riveting my feet to the floor below. We had talked not long ago, and he seemed to be better off than the bloke from the transept. I clamped my trembling fingers against the pew, shutting my eyes as my composure peeled off along the edges.
You've still got a job to do. Renée and the others, they're relying on you, so you can't stop. Carry on. Letting out a shaky breath, and swallowing the bile that was welling up in my throat, I forced myself to glance around, in search of the stretcher-bearers. To my relief, they hadn't gone far. They were only a few feet further down the nave.
"Hey, lads!" I shouted louder. "Lads! There's free space here."
One of the orderlies must have heard me. After a quick word with his colleague, the stretcher between them was soon lowered on the floor, and he rushed back to me. I moved away in the meantime. Doing my best not to look at the corporal's face, I unclipped his tags and pushed them into my pocket. The guilt in my stomach felt like ice, but I had no other options. I'm so sorry for this.
"Miss?" The orderly glanced at him and pressed his lips into a line. He knew what had to be done. "I see. Where to?"
"Take him outside." The rest was a bit difficult to say out loud. "The further corner of the yard." Where the rest of them are.
The man gawked at me. "You're piling the bodies in the yard?"
"Well, they can't stay here, can they?"
Thankfully, he didn't kick up a row. He simply turned to call after the other orderly. In less than a minute, they moved the deceased corporal from the pew before hoisting up a pale-faced private in that same spot. He had scrapes on the side of his forehead, and what appeared to be a wound on his thigh, but he wasn't in an extremely bad shape.
"Excuse me." He winced while he shifted his leg. "This is gonna sound overdone and all, but are you an angel?"
"I might be. I dropped from the sky this Tuesday."
If anything, his baffled expression eased the tightness inside me a little. I grasped the sooty dressing around his thigh, bracing myself for what was could be underneath until I pulled it away. A moment later, I swallowed thickly. The wound was a through-and-through, particularly nasty to look at. Yet, the bullet had missed the artery, which was good news. And I need some bloody good news right now.
"Hell's bells." The muttered curse made me look at the private again. He propped himself up with his elbows, gazing at me in wonder. "You're that woman pilot, aren't you? A radioman from Fox Company told me stories, but I thought he was messing with me."
I mustered a smile. "You surely mixed me up with someone else."
"I was in Randwijk, miss, after Market Garden. I saw you get into your plane before take-off, and I never forget a face. If you don't mind me asking, is it true that you went behind enemy lines once? I heard there was a stranded Limey involved."
News really travel fast. "That radioman has a heck of an imagination."
"In case you're wondering, I can keep a secret."
I continued to work, unsure how to tell him that I wasn't the person he was looking for. I already had too many things on my plate to deal with gossip. And so I mulled it over, looking for the right words, until Renée emerged from the crowd a few steps away, waving her blue shawl like a flag to draw my attention. Leaving the man for a moment, I hobbled over to her.
"We ran out of water. There's nothing in le presbytère (the rectory)."
"Did the plumbing give out?", I asked. Renée frowned in confusion. I cursed myself for not studying French harder at school. "The thing with those – the hell is that word?"
"Les tuyaux? (The pipes?)", the private asked from the pew. "What? My ma's French."
She nodded vigorously. Meanwhile, I bit my lip in apprehension.
"Can someone fix it?"
Her silence explained everything. Having given her a sign to follow me, I passed her a glass and a half-full bottle of hooch, which was currently a substitute for pain relief. While she poured some of the drink and handed it to the private, I fished out some clean dressings to use.
"Do you have a stream somewhere? Like a plan B?"
"Un outs d'eau. We have an old well. But, I don't know if it has water. Nobody used it for a long time."
"If it's on the front line, finding will be very tricky."
"It's just down the street. But, I can't go. It's my shift in the back of the church, and I'm the only one there."
"I'll take care of it." She was about to protest and I quickly added: "It won't be a problem. Just tell Eugene to step in until I get back."
Renée nodded again in return. I raised my hand, signalling a medic rushing nearby to take my place. Once he reached the pew I was standing next to, I all but shoved the dressings I had into his hands, after which I darted off. By some miracle, I managed not to trip as I ambled through the large door, straight into the snowy yard outside. If anything, I could use some fresh air while I was out.
And then the cold ploughed into me like a bus.
In fact, saying it was cold was a vast understatement. It was mind-numbingly freezing. Despite the lack of wind, the chill penetrated through my jacket, down to my bones. The exposed parts of my skin felt as if they were on fire and, while I pushed back a gasp, I became worried that my ears were about to fall off. Luckily, they didn't. Having tugged the collar of my jacket as far up as it could go, I urged myself to hoof it, brushing past the Jeeps parked at the entrance.
However, I soon found out that I wasn't alone. Someone had come after me, rustling through the snow. It surely wasn't Renée, since she couldn't leave her post, nor it could be Anna. With my arms wrapped around my middle to preserve some warmth, I cast a glance behind me and saw no other than Eugene catching up. Although he was slightly shivering from the cold, he hurried to match his steps with mine.
"I'm fairly sure I told you something about not following me." I shot an icy glare at him. But, then I had to knit my brow. "Aren't you supposed to be helping doctor Thys?"
"The real question is how you're gonna carry all that water."
"Eugene, I'll be fine on my own. Pulling a bucket out of a hole in the ground isn't that difficult."
"You could use sum help, though. 'Specially if you recently crawled out of a plane wreck." He tilted his head a little. "Did somebody looked at yo' leg?"
"My leg is none of your concern." Avoiding his gaze, I tried to focus as much as I could on the street ahead. I also hoped that the well Renée had mentioned would come into sight sooner, rather than later. "Look, I'd prefer being alone for a minute. Why don't you go back inside?"
He stubbornly refused to leave. Shaking my head to myself, I chose to ignore him and glanced at my feet. The once fresh snow was already turning into ice, letting out a crackle every time I stepped on it. Cringing at the memory of the last time I slipped, I slackened my pace, keeping a closer look at where I was going.
"If you're waitin' fo' me to apologise, that's not gonna happen."
I jerked my head towards him. "You're joking."
"I can't do it, 'cause I'm not sorry. That's the way it is. I'm jus' not." He stalled for the next few steps. "I did it all to protect you, and you're damn right I'd do it again."
"How very noble of you. Well, look around and see where that got me." That was when I saw his frown, with a sort of gritty resolve on his face, and I became baffled as much as I was fuming. "No. No bloody way. You don't have the right to be angry at me. When you asked for my help, I didn't stab you in the back."
"If they caught you that night, you'd be behind bars. Or dead."
"Forget about what could or couldn't happen. Did it occur to you that it should've been my choice to begin with? Jesus, Roe. It's my life, my family. Shouldn't I –" I let out a mirthless laugh, feeling ridiculous for what I was about to ask. "Shouldn't I have a say in that?"
"Not if you were plannin' a suicide mission."
"So help me, I'm going to clock you by the day's end." With no use blowing in my fingers to warm them up, I tucked them into my pockets. However, I had to halt shortly after, squinting at something that had appeared in the distance. "Oh. I think this is it."
Placed on the side of the town square, the well was very similar to those found on paintings, surrounded by a low brick wall and accompanied by a small roof above. A couple of buckets lay discarded next to it, partially covered with snow. It brought me some comfort that the pulley system was still there. Maybe not everything in the town had been demolished.
"I don't think punchin' me is a good idea", he said out of the blue.
"Why? Because you think you don't deserve it?"
"'Cause nurse Renée drafted us both. Like it or not, we're together in this now."
Drafted. That's a nice way of putting it. Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I went for the first bucket, tipping it sideways to shake the snow out of it. Having tied its handle with the rope, I let it drop into the well, and I blinked in surprise as a quiet splash came from below.
"I'm not looking forward to this." I tried pulling the bucket up, but that turned out to be a problem. The wretched thing was a lot heavier than I had expected. "I can't believe she made me promise not to pick any fights. As if I'd get into one just like that."
"Yeah, you're surely not the feisty type", he replied sarcastically.
"And you're hilarious." I winced as the rope scraped against my hands. Digging my boots firmer into the ground, I yanked harder, bringing the bucket almost to the very top – only to lose my balance, the weight suddenly wrenching me forward.
However, I didn't land head-first into the snow. I smacked straight into Eugene, who had lunged forward to catch me. Holding me firmly against his chest, he rooted us both to the spot and somehow, in a way I couldn't quite explain, the rope hadn't slipped out of my grip. No sooner did I see it wrapped around my hand than I felt relief. That was close.
"Hey, you good?", he asked.
"I think so." Once I readjusted my hold, making sure not to lose my footing for the second time, he turned his back and grabbed the rope as well. We then began backtracking, with one slow step after the other. Hopefully, we wouldn't both end up with our noses stuck in the ground. "Speaking of Renée, since when you do know each other?"
"Sisk was hit a while ago. She helped me carry him inside. Gave me sum supplies, too." He sighed shortly, his breath instantly morphing into steam. "Thank God fo' that. I had almost nothin' in my bag."
So, it's worse than in the church. The makeshift aid station still held its own by boiling bandages over and over again. Regrettably, there was no process for re-using firewood. The same went for food and medicine, which were dwindling in numbers by the hour. I hardly dared to imagine what would happen when those tattered, reddish pieces of cloth became the only things left.
"I thought there would be supply drops in the area."
"One plane came up. But, because of the fog, it dropped the supplies on the wrong side of the line." He glanced behind his shoulder, and I noticed how a corner of his mouth bitterly curved. "The Krauts got everythin' instead."
"The last time I checked, the aid station can spare a few bed sheets, for dressings. I can't guarantee the other things."
"I know. I already packed them."
The tone of his voice didn't seem right. "But, that's not enough, is it?"
He was cut off by the dull sound of the bucket, hitting the edge of the well. After a short time of hanging back, he went over there to wrench it out, and I couldn't stop myself from smiling once he showed me that it was brimming with water. Limping closer to him, I caught some of the sloshing water into my palm. It was bitterly cold, which wasn't so unusual, yet it was also clear enough to drink.
Maybe luck didn't turn its back on us yet. Grasping the handle, I helped him lower the bucket into the snow before preparing the next one. However, as soon as I raised my head and our eyes met, it hit me that he didn't quite share my enthusiasm. His expression was pinched in that almost endearing way of his, as if he had seen something he couldn't wrap his mind around. It reminded me of that evening in France – he had the same face after I had snatched a piece of his pie while he wasn't looking. And then he broke the silence.
"Did we need a town under siege to start talkin' again?"
I gave a brief half-shrug in reply. "It wouldn't surprise me much if we did. We've never done things the old-fashioned way."
.
.
"I'm runnin' low on sulfa here", Eugene muttered, "Can I borrow yours?"
"Take it. But, give me a towel – or a cloth. Whatever you have."
I slipped him the packet behind my back, too occupied to avert my gaze. Bill's fever had spiked during my errand, and now he couldn't fall asleep for longer than a few minutes at a time, no matter what I tried. Just as I thought he had finally dozed off, he would unexpectedly jolt awake, with a look so miserable that it made my heart want to crack. He was currently so worn out that he hardly even moved.
"Eugene, where's that cloth?" I was about to turn around when he handed me a washcloth. After dampening it in cold water, I began to gingerly wipe away the sweat along Bill's forehead. However, that was enough to wake him up. He let out a muffled grunt at the touch, and I moved my free hand to his arm, shushing him softly.
"This bites", he muttered under his breath. I flinched at how nasal his voice sounded. If he hadn't been very congested, he certainly was now.
"I know. But, this will make you feel a bit better."
"That thing's colder than a toilet seat in the Yukon."
"Bill, you've never been in the Yukon."
"Doesn't change the fact it's cold." I feigned a smile, moving the cloth to his flushed cheek. During that time, his narrowed eyes became a tad less piercing. "You know you don't have to do this."
"Don't worry about that. Try to get some rest, yeah?"
As I let the washcloth soak in the water again, I took a swift glance around. Eugene was still working nearby, putting another stitch in someone's arm, but the manner in which he was standing was peculiar. He was notably hunched when he paused and stepped back, a small shiver passing through him. It wasn't long before that occurred again, which made me wince along. He must have been freezing, being near the open door in that lightweight clothing.
Damn. Does he have something other than that? Having washed my hands in a hurry, I snatched the first thing within my reach, which was a blanket somebody had left behind. I ambled to him after that, only to spread it wide, wrapping it slowly and snuggly around his shoulders. However, what I didn't expect was his head to jerk towards me. The look he had was nothing short than perplexed.
"When I saw you comin', I thought you'd slug me after all."
"Sounds tempting. But, no. I just don't want you to end up like Bill."
"Thanks. Uh, that's good to know. What about you?"
"I'll get by. I'm not that cold." In fact, I was, though he didn't have to know that. I huddled up further in my jacket. "So, I guess I'll be seeing you during the afternoon rounds."
"I don't think I'll be here by then."
Wondering what he meant by that, I caught his gaze flicker to the floor, at a spot near his feet. To my surprise, I found his satchel lying there, sagged a bit on one side since it was half-empty, while his helmet rested against it. The message couldn't be any clearer – he wouldn't be sticking around the aid station for much longer.
"You're going back to the line."
"As soon as a Jeep stops by. I'll hitch a ride if they got room."
"Huh. Well, at least you're not stuck here."
"Stayin' here might not be so bad."
"You think?", I asked. He moved aside to scrub his hands, but he said nothing else. I wasn't in the best of moods for pushing him, so I brushed the subject aside, leaning against a column nearby with my arms across my chest. "It's going to be a while until you return, eh?"
"Depends on what's gonna happen out dere. If the Germans prepared a surprise for us, I'll be here sooner than you think."
My brain flooded with memories from the shelling in Holland, and I felt dread filling up the rest of me. The image of that huge support beam pinning him down gave me chills to this day. If I had to dig someone out of the rubble again, I didn't know how I would handle it. Before I knew it, I caught myself nervously picking at the edge of my sleeve.
"Until next time, then", I assumed.
He made a sort of affirmative hum, which possibly marked the end of the conversation. I left him alone with his work soon after, turning on my heel and moving to the next man I had to check on. However, I hardly made it to the closest pallet when a voice rose from the crowd.
"Hey, Doc! I haven't seen you in ages. What's up?"
Taking a look behind, I found Eugene beside Skinny Sisk, one of the few Easy blokes on the mend in this place. Sisk was resting on a table, less pale and much livelier than the last time I had seen him. After he straightened up a little, he grinned amiably and took a sip from a bottle of some spirits, acquired by the nurses.
"My ear's been ringin' since you hollered in it. But, I'm okay."
"I didn't mean it, Doc, I swear." Sisk seemed unsettled at first, but then he must have spotted the same thing as me. Eugene had his chin in his hand, doing a terrible job at staying serious. "Holy shit. Is that a joke?"
Frankly, I was equally stunned by this. I hadn't seen Eugene joke with someone in what felt like forever. And, with everything that had happened so far, I became almost convinced I wouldn't get another chance to witness it. But, the way it made Sisk's face light up teased a smile out of me, and it took me a long time until I realised that.
Eugene's answer ended up muffled by the hubbub that grew louder in the church, leaving me to guess what he had said. However, I soon had to snap out of it, having recalled that I had no clean dressings left. And some of the blokes I had to look over needed theirs changed fast. I let out a sigh, glad that Renée wasn't here to catch me dawdling like this.
I probably shouldn't get on her bad side. I limped to the chapel that also doubled as a storage, switching my gaze from one pile of boxes to the other. Fortunately, the sunlight coming from the narrow window ahead made things easier to find. Having spotted the right cluster of boxes, I rummaged through them, eventually pulling out a few bed sheets I could use. But, I almost dropped them all, startled as Eugene abruptly turned up without the slightest noise.
I waited, expecting him to say something, yet he merely walked to the opposite side of the room, searching through the supplies lining the wall. With an inward shrug, I drew my attention back to the sheets. By the looks of things, our last shift together would be a long and lethargic one, which I didn't mind much. I had greater worries at the moment.
"If we get out of Bastogne alive, we'll talk. About everythin'."
That took me aback. Once I looked up, he had already turned in my direction, his features catching some of the light.
"But, we can't be scrappin' now", he added, "Not when –"
"Even when the weather wants to do us in?"
His smile wasn't forced. It was small, shy even, giving away a pair of dimples on his cheeks. And for some reason, it let a sudden warmth rush up my face. That felt strange, given that I was still angry, enough to contemplate throwing a few of those cardboard boxes at him. Thank the stars, he remained utterly oblivious to what was going on in my head. He picked up a box he had been looking for, ready to make his way back through the chapel's entrance.
"I missed you." I halted when he froze in his tracks. Starting this out differently crossed my mind, yet I gave up on the idea. "You might've been driving me up the wall, too, but I missed you."
His expression worried me. It was unreadable, offering no clues about what he would say – if he had anything to say, that is. He could choose to walk out of the room, which wouldn't be surprising. However, I blinked in bewilderment as he set the box on the floor. He left it there without glancing at it, only to step into my corner of the room. His hand cupped the side of my face, and I had no time to say a thing when he leaned closer, stealing a kiss from me.
He pulled back then, his forehead brushing against mine before he shuffled away. But, without a single warning, he stopped midway while his brows drew together. I found out that it wasn't me he was squinting at. His gaze was focused on something behind me, on the opposite side of the stained window. I turned towards it as well, leaning closer to the glass, yet I saw nothing except an empty street.
I glanced back at him. "What did you see?"
"Just stay here. Don't move, alright?"
Giving no explanations, he bolted out of the chapel, and I had no choice but to chase after him. I surely didn't plan to linger indoors. Musing on what could be wrong, I followed him down the nave and through a small door in the back of the church, which lead us to the narrow street that was visible from the chapel. It wasn't long until Eugene halted, and I took the chance to follow his gaze. I soon dawned on me that he was staring at two silhouettes on the pavement. But, only when we drew close did it hit me why he was so troubled. I was looking at two corpses.
Dear God. Civilians by the looks of them, they were lying at the edge of a passageway, not far from each other. Their throats had been slit open, turning the snow they were prone on red. My hand flew up to my mouth, yet the sight of blood wasn't the sole reason for that. The man nearer to us, slumped against the wall with his glasses askew on his head, was doctor Thys from the church.
I felt a sudden urge to reel back. Although I had seen dead men before, this was different. Finding someone like this, especially someone who was only here to save lives, left me in a horrified disbelief. While I pushed down a lump in my throat, Eugene shrugged out of the blanket before he hesitantly crouched beside Thys's body. I stalled behind him at first, but I plucked up some courage to amble closer.
"There's somethin' wrong with them", he said when I joined him.
"You have a point. They're both dead."
"They're still warm."
"Bollocks." My gaze flicked from Gene to Thys, and back again. "But that – that can't be. In a weather like this, they should've been almost frozen solid by now. Unless –"
As the other possibility crept in, Gene shifted his gaze to me, his face rapidly turning ashen. He was on his feet in a blink, drawing away from the bodies. He also extended his arm in front of me, ushering me behind his back, but I was far too stunned to rail at him. Those two had been alive quite recently, and the person responsible for this, or perhaps more of them, couldn't have gone far from the street.
My heart was thudding while we scrambled backwards. Eyes wandering in all directions, I grasped the hem of Gene's jacket lest I lost my footing. I followed his pace then, clinging to the hope that the culprits weren't close enough to hear us. As we got near another alleyway on our left, I took a brief look to check if we could detour through it – when I suddenly locked eyes with a German hiding behind the corner.
We stared at each other, his incredulous expression probably matching mine. None of us said a thing for a couple of long seconds. I dared to believe that he might do nothing, apart from letting Gene and I walk out of here, until his hand went for his weapon. Just our fucking luck.
A punch to the throat left him spluttering. He keeled over, collapsing against the wall, and I unclenched my fist, only to gasp as Eugene was rammed into the house next to me by a second German. Pulling free from his grip, Gene grabbed the rifle that the man had poised at him, wrenching it upwards before it fired. And then he threw an unexpected left hook. The man crumpled to the pavement, knocked out cold.
My gaze switched between the two of them when my insides lurched. I didn't have the faintest what was going on. I only knew we had to vanish, the sooner the better. I glanced at the German who was still coughing in the alleyway and snatched the gun he had dropped, after which I dashed down the street. Yet, no sooner did I pick up speed than pain shot up my wonky leg and I groaned, skidding to a halt. Sprinting out of here was clearly out of the question. I let out a shaky breath, which turned into a yelp as Eugene scooped me up into his arms midrun, without even slowing down. While he bolted to the intersecting street, I looked sideways to scan our six and my heart rate doubled.
"Gene, MOVE!" He lunged behind a building with me as shots rang out, chipping the wall at the corner. Apparently, the German I had thwacked was back on his feet. Eugene let me go the instant we reached cover, before we rushed forward through another passageway, he first and I bringing up the rear. My leg was throbbing my then, but that ceased to be a concern when I heard shouting. The German after us was obviously calling out for someone. Great. There are more of them.
"How the hell did they get here?", I asked out loud. I briefly peered over my shoulder, making sure we weren't followed yet, until another thought sprang to my mind. "Shit. What if they broke through the line?"
"I hope not." Gene snuck a look at me, which said he didn't like that thought, either. "You sure you can walk?"
Despite the pain, I gave a quick nod. Having tightened my grip on the gun, and checked the back end of the passage again, I followed him to what looked like an entrance to somebody's garden. There was certainly a vast space waiting on the other side, white with snow, riddled with a few naked shrubs. I gulped a little at the sight of it. If it was one of those town gardens nestled between buildings, it could have another entrance, perhaps leading to a different street. And we needed a quick exit, since the others had undoubtedly heard the shots fired. But, we hardly made a couple of steps closer before one of them appeared at the end, blocking our way.
There was no time for second-guessing. Pushing Gene out of the way, I pulled the trigger. The sidearm jolted in my hand, and the man slumped with a heavy thud as a bullet ripped through his chest. As a rustle came from behind, I immediately turned around, firing at the man who had apparently caught up with us. The shot hit him in the leg, and he went down with a cry. I tugged at Gene's arm then, giving him a sign to keep moving. Having stepped over the prone German on the pavement, we rushed straight out of the shady passage.
An elbow to the eye made me drop the gun. It fell in the snow, but I didn't know where. I stumbled for a moment while my head pounded, after which I quickly regained my balance, aiming a kick at the attacker. Yet, he evaded that with one swift step. A knife shone in his hand, and I barely got to turn sideways before it zipped past me, slashing my jumpsuit across the stomach. My breath got caught in my throat as I spotted a gash underneath the fabric.
Son of a gun. I swung the strongest punch I could make, which he blocked and countered in a blink. I tipped my head to avoid the knife, which went through a window behind me. I clutched his wrist then, hoping that would prevent him from pulling the blade out. In the corner of my eye, I caught Gene fighting with another German, who had tackled him on the concrete path in the middle of the garden. However, I didn't see what happened next. My opponent put his back into it, yanking the knife sideways through the glass, and I swiftly moved with it so that it wouldn't get to me.
It was then that I found a broken flowerpot, lying on the sill of the adjacent window. I grabbed one shard only to leap forward. But, then he left his knife, snatching my arm and twisting it to the side until the piece of pottery went below my ribs. I instantly moved my other hand and gripped his, so as not to get stabbed with my own weapon. Yet, I couldn't hold on for long. I wasn't strong enough to push it away, while the wall at my back hindered any retreat. Slowly but surely, my hand was forced up despite how much I was pulling it down, and I grunted through clenched teeth when the shard cut through my clothing. The sharp sting meant that it had reached my skin, as well.
Three shots rang out.
I backed up further against the wall with a shout, dropping the piece of the flowerpot. Only then did I fathom that the German was on the ground and dead, while I wasn't. To my bewilderment, I was still here. Shivering uncontrollably, I glanced around, and the shock I felt escalated when I saw Bill on the opposite side of the garden, with his rifle at the ready. He remained unmoving for what seemed to be a short time, before he swayed a little on his feet, grasping the rifle with one hand and holding onto a fence beside him with the other. How he had managed to run all the way here in that state, let alone fire and not miss, was entirely beyond me.
"Jess, you hurt?", he shouted hoarsely.
I shook my head. And then it dawned on me. The only other person in the garden was another German, who was now lying motionlessly near a snow-covered bench. "Where's Gene?"
A sound of a struggle reached my ears, coming from behind a building on our right. It took me an instant to recognise the yell that followed. Gene was there, and he definitely wasn't alone. I hobbled towards the noise as fast as my leg allowed me, drawing in my breath with a hiss after every few steps. I didn't get to reach the corner, though.
I made it merely halfway, because dust and debris abruptly flew out from behind it, with the unmistakable bang of a grenade going off.
The garden went unearthly still after that.
To be continued.
As always, every review will be highly appreciated!