Nurse Ethan
"What does that piece do?" Riley asks me, breaking my concentration for the fiftieth time in the past hour. It's late, but there is much to do. While the band downstairs were of some help in cleaning up the previous nights' mess, the Kitchen still needed work, as did our small fleet of newly acquired vehicles. The old farm truck needed some quick maintenance jobs to make it less recognizable. Eventually, the engine was going to need a swap and a new registration created. But in the meantime, careful and slow driving so as to not attract attention would have to suffice as the best defense against getting caught with a stolen car.
The other vehicle, a pie-truck, was simply a mess due to neglect, but it was serviceable. However, Rocky's car still had bullet holes and I hoped that they wouldn't give him away while in unknown territory. The guy must have gotten something useful out of Viktor because he hadn't returned to our headquarters all evening. With any luck, he was currently negotiating a liquor sale, though lord knows how such an odd fella would accomplish that. Still, if worse comes to worse, the weapons which are now scattered throughout the main room of the apartment would fetch some money.
The current one in pieces was my newest possession, a Springfield 1903 rifle. It was from the same batch that I was issued all those years ago, and compared to the single shots I grew up hunting with, it was a marvelous design. Large safety, crisp trigger, solid lock-up, sights locked in at 300 yards but could, in theory, direct a 150-grain bullet to well past a mile. But the best part was the piece I was currently reassembling, the bolt. It was lightning fast, a skill honest in the three months of training we were given before being loaded on a boat to France.
"Riley, it's almost two in the morning. Is there a reason you're still up?"
"Well, you're still up. Why can't I be?"
"I guess letting you sleep that long during the day was a mistake. How about you go read in bed or something until you start feeling tired again?" I suggest, but I already know how little use it is to argue with a kid about going to bed, especially since I was the same way once. Now I stay up late cleaning guns, apparently.
A small rock bounces off the window of our apartment. Then another, and another. "Who's that?" Riley asks.
"I don't know but stay away from the window. Hand me the pistol, just in case." MY heart begins to beat faster, but another pebble striking the glass means that whoever wanted to talk really needed to and it wasn't just some bums in the alley or kids out way past their bedtime. I slink over to the window, being careful not to give too obvious of a shot just in case it was some friends of those farmers from yesterday looking to finish the job. To my surprise, the car in the alley is Rocky's. Looking down, I see Ivy waving her arms frantically. Quickly, I open up the window.
"Miss Pepper, what are you doing here this early in the morning, and with Rocky's car?"
Her voice carries exhaustion and desperation with it. "Rocky got hurt and he doesn't have a place to stay for the night."
"Alright, hang on, I'm coming down. Meet me in the garage."
Stuffing an extra car into the garage took some coaching and hand signals, but eventually we got it to fit as well. Ivy immediately opened the door and ran up to me as I came around to have a look at our wounded warrior. "These crazy undertakers tried running us down in a field with their hearse and they hit Rocky…" The evidence for it was pretty clear. Blood-stained Rocky's clothes and there were bandages holding his head together. Immediately, the world started to turn dark as my mind carried me back to a much more grievous injury from a shell hitting our section of the trench.
"Hey, what's wrong? Ethan, please help him, I can't carry Rocky by myself." Ivy said, tugging on my sleeve.
"Oh… sorry Ivy, just lost in thought. You grab one arm; I'll grab the other. Rocky, can you hear me buddy?"
A nod yes confirmed that he at least was still with us, which was a relief. "Come on, let's get you in some better light and cleaned up. Miss Pepper, you take one arm and I'll take the other, let's see if he can walk." Sure enough, with a bit of coaxing Rocky was on his own two feet.
"Okay Rocky, you just lean on us and focus on putting one foot in front of the other. We'll get you up the stairs—"
"Please, don't tell Miss M. She'll know I failed."
"We were over this before, Rocky, we got a deal worked out."
"Wait… he managed to pull it off? How? Rocky is more incoherent than ever!"
Ivy looked down at the ground with a smug expression.
"Oh, so it was you who got us some liquor…"
"Well, Rocky did help. Bleeding on their operating table while a former nurse put him back together was just pitiful enough of a sight to use as leverage."
"Miss M will be happy about that, at least. But I'll leave out the grievous injury—"
"Don't tell her where I live. It's pathetic…" Rocky interrupted again. Clearly only a few words were sinking in.
"Miss Pepper, what does he mean by that?"
"Turns out our fearless strategist lives in his car."
"He lives in that thing? Why? I just assumed you lived with your cousin, or you had an apartment someplace in town."
"I've worn out my welcome years ago, got kicked out."
"Okay, well say no more. I won't breathe a word about that to Mitzi." As we pass by the second-floor office, I see a light is on. Either it's wasting electricity, or she's inside. But that can wait for a minute, a head injury is more important.
Riley must have heard us approaching, because she opened the door to let us inside the small apartment. It was okay for two people, but with four it felt crowded. "Let's set him down on my bed. Rocky, you'll sleep there after I see this wound of yours and get you cleaned up."
He truly was a pitiful sight, but at least he had been in good hands. It was a bang-up stitching job. Simple, quick, but very effective.
"Miss Pepper, mind passing me the rag please. Riley, you got that water I asked for."
"Right here, Ethan." Riley said while setting down the bowl of water. Ivy didn't say much but seemed intrigued to watch my work.
"You know girls, watching me wash off the blood isn't all that interesting."
"Aren't you going to do anything for him? Should we call Dr. Quackenbush?"
"There's no need to. Whoever was tending to him before did a pretty good job, and if it's more serious than what these stitches can handle, then I'm afraid there wouldn't be much anyone could do anyway. What he needs now is clean fur, a long rest, and some medication."
"Ooh, that reminds me!" Ivy perked up. "I've got some medicines the nurse gave me down in the car."
"Well, best go get them. Riley, could you help Miss Pepper." Riley nodded, but I caught a glimpse of a yawn. "Ah, finally starting to feel tired, I see. Well don't worry, it will be lights out soon. You girls make sure we're locked up downstairs.
"I need to get back to the campus though."
"At this time of night? Nonsense. If anyone decides to make it a problem, just tell them you were at your aunt May's place."
"They can be pretty strict about that, Ethan." Then we'll have Mitzi get you a note. It's far too late to be out driving, and by the time I got back it would be the crack of dawn. No, you can stay here tonight.
With the girls gone, now I could turn my attention back to Rocky. "Okay Rocky, I'm going to clean everything but the bandages. Partly so you feel better, but mostly so you aren't staining my sheets with blood. Now, tell me honestly, how are you feeling."
"Like a failure…" He responds, clearly depressed.
"Hey now, you didn't fail. You got hurt in the line of fire, just like a proper soldier. Like France, remember?"
He gives me a slight nod. "Glad you can at least remember what you said earlier in the day." Then I noticed some tears forming in the corner of his eyes.
"Woah there, Rocky. Before you turn on the waterworks, what's wrong? Is it pain? I can imagine you're in quite a bit of it."
"Why do I feel like a failure if I'm not one?" Well that's reassuring…
"Okay, look. Since you've got a head injury and probably won't remember this anyway, come here." I then do the only thing I can think of, while also giving me an angle to clean the blood from the back of his head with my washcloth. I pull him in and let his injured head rest on my shoulder, one hand wiping away half-dried blood, the other rubbing his back. "It's all fine, Rocky. You just have to remember that much."
For a minute or two I did nothing other than hold him. It didn't take a professor to see that Rocky had been put through the ringer before, and this was just one in a long line of accidents or tragedies. In that moment, it was just me and him so I held him like one of the brothers I missed so much. Satisfied that he was calm and perhaps more coherent, I let go.
"See? You're looking better already." I lie through my teeth. Just then, I hear the apartment door shut and the girls are back with the medicine.
"Okay, she said to give him some of this right way. Just a spoonful or two. And then we need to give him some of this during the day." Ivy explains, handing me a bottle with some foul-smelling substance.
"Very good." I lean Rocky's head back gently and pour a few drops right into his gullet.
"Aren't you going to measure it?" Ivy asks, worried.
"Nah. It's more of an art than a science anyway. Besides, if this is for the pain then a little extra will help him a lot tomorrow. Now, let's give Rocky some rest, shall we?"
Success Despite Setbacks
I help Rocky lean back into my bed, and I put a good blanket over him for some warmth before stealing my other blanket and pillow. Then we're all out of the room, closing the door behind nice and gently.
"And now for you, Miss Pepper. I guess you can sleep in Riley's bed. Riley, you can be on the couch tonight."
"But what about you, brother?"
"I'll be on the floor next to you, Riley."
"Won't that be uncomfortable?" Ivy questions
"Eh, I've had worse nights. Besides, you girls need your sleep a lot more than me."
While they got ready for bed, I gave the girls some privacy and went down the hall to see if Mitzi was still awake. Knocking on the door, I hear some movement followed by a shadow blocking some of the light peeking out from the underside of the entrance. Mitzi slowly opens it, the hinges creaking slightly. I look at her and see that she's been having a rough night too.
"So you are still up. Is everything alright, Miss M?"
"Oh…" She then tries to wipe away some of the tear stains from her makeup. "It's fine, Ethan. Is there something you needed?"
"I just wanted to let you know that Rocky managed to score us some booze, but whatever is going on with you is a lot more important. Are you sure you're okay?"
A slight sniffle, followed by another attempt to wipe away a tear before it can do more damage to her makeup tells me that Mitzi is still dealing with it. "Yes, it's alright Ethan. I'm glad to hear Rocky was successful. Truly, that makes me feel a lot better."
"Well, I'm glad to at least give you some comfort this evening… or this morning, if I'm being accurate. Once Rocky gets some rest, no doubt he'll have a plan. But we're going to need money."
"There is some good news there as well. You can tell Rocky that payment won't be a problem. I'm in fact counting our cash right now."
"Good. In that case, I need to call it a night. Long day tomorrow."
"Thank you, Ethan. Good night…" She then closed the door, just as quietly as she opened it. Turning back around before I go through my own door, I see the lights go dark in the office. Ten minutes later, I'm on the floor with a blanket and pillow. Just as I was about to fall asleep, I feel another presence join me on the floor. Riley decided that she needed some comfort as well.
Standing up, I take my little sister into my arms and let her lay next to me on the couch. Not quite as comfortable as the bed, but at least I hear a soft snore within a minute to two and I won't have to hear complaints about a sore back in the morning, nor will I need to endure such soreness myself. Despite that, it's never an easy night.
Sweet Dreams
Boom… boom… boom…The cannons roar in the distance. Sure enough, they start raining down on our position, staring a bombardment that will last for the better part of 12 hours. The German guns are throwing shells 6 inches wide across the battlefield. Some can't take the noise, but over time I've gotten used to it. Down deep underground where the lead hail can't touch us, coffee is a on the pot and singing fills the damp, dark air.
We've a little wet home in the trench,
Which the rainstorms continually drench
Blue Sky overhead
Mud and clay for a bed
And a stone that we use for a bench.
Boiled Beef and Hard Tack we chew.
Shells crackle and scare
But no place can compare
With our little wet home in the trench
Our friends in the trench want to make us pay,
Because they've realized that we're here to stay,
They rush and they shout,
But they can't snuff us out,
Though there's no dirty work they don't play,
They rushed us just the other day,
But command doesn't like intruders, so
Some departed quite sore
Others will sleep forever more
Near our little wet home in the trench!
Boom
Laugher roars through our space as a shell hits quite close. "You know Charlie—" boom "I reckon the Germans are—" boom"running out of ammunition." Evans shouts over the pounding of the guns.
Boom
"How ya figure, Evans?" he replies.
"It seems to me—" boom"That the Germans—" boom"couldn't possibly—" boom"make this much ammunition!"
"You may be right; they're trying to smash us into dust before the last push!" Charlie shouts.
After a few minutes, it seems that the artillery has been silenced.
"Fellas, move over, I gotta take a leak before the bastards charge us again."
Just as he left the safety of the dugout, I could hear Evans letting the dam loose that he'd been holding for the past twelve hours. Just as he's about finished, one final explosion rocks our trench.
"Jesus Christ, Evans! Evans! Are you there?" I hear Johnson shout over my head as he steps out. "Kelly, help me find Evans. The rest of you stay put."
"I didn't hear no shot!" Charlie calls to Johnson. "What the hell happened?"
Johnson shoots me a look of dread before turning around. "Dud shell, Charlie. The timer was wonky, it went off after landing." Johnson then leans in and grabs me by my jacket. "Keep your eyes peeled for any more unexploded shells, Kelly." Off into the fog we go.
Suddenly, a figure reaches out a hand for me, and I freeze as I see a couple of fingers missing and the whole forearm is bloody. "My God, Evans!" Johnson exclaims as I grab onto what's left of the best soldier in our unit. He tries to speak despite half his face being missing, but all we hear is some blood gurgling. We hurry him in, and the medic does all he can do. Most injuries aren't life threatening on their own, but a piece of shrapnel is sticking out of his forehead, and after an intense struggle, we hear the dreaded death rattle. Silence fills our trench. I flip back and forth between Evans and Rocky, Evans and Rocky, no, not again, please God, not again! I can't endure this anymore!
An elbow to the gut from Riley jolts me awake. I look over at the clock on the side table. "6 o'clock" it reads. Damn. A tired muttering from my sister clarifies the sudden shock. "You were moving around too much."
"Oh… sorry Riley. Here, you can have the whole couch." I lift her head off my lap and let her down gently on the cushion where I had been sleeping, slumped against the back and armrest. I take my blanket and add a second layer of insulation over her. At least she can get a full night's sleep.
A deep stretch into the back loosens everything up for the day. I'm tired, always tired, but it's the same story every night. Quietly, I walk over to my door and peek in, seeing that Rocky is still laid up, but his chest is rising and falling in a steady rhythm. At least I can feel relieved knowing he's alive and should recover… unlike poor Evans a decade ago.
Peering into Riley's room, Ivy is asleep as well. Hopefully having a better night than me, but one can never be sure. Ready or not, time for me to meet the day, and there's sure to be a lot to do. Digging through my clothing, I found a good pair of work jeans and a shirt. Perfectly unassuming, unlike pinstripes or, say, a blue suit. If we've got some liquor to acquire, then there's bound to be some necessary preparations.