She met my gaze, swallowed hard, and nodded, her ponytail bobbing as she did.
“Let’s do this.”
That was my girl.
“Good,” I said, letting go of her shoulders. “Where do you need us?”
“Everywhere,” she said, gesturing around. “Just grab anyone who looks like they’re about to bleed out and get them to a medic. We’re running on fumes here.”
“You heard her,” I growled to the rest of the medics. “Move your asses. We’ve got lives to save.”
And then the goddamn nightmare started.
Pyro and I dove into the fray, our hands and minds working on autopilot as we grabbed anyone who looked like they were on death’s fucking doorstep and hustled them toward the nearest nurse or medic.
It was messy, chaotic, but we had a job to do. Lives were on the line, and we were the only ones standing between these guys and the fucking Reaper.
Red was right there beside us, working her ass off to patch up the wounded soldiers and medics alike. This was the grind, the real brutal shit, and nobody had the luxury to bitch about it.
“Jesus fuck,” I muttered under my breath, hoisting a soldier whose leg was nothing but shredded meat and bone, barely hanging on by a few sinews.
Pyro grabbed the guy’s other side, and together we half-dragged, half-carried him towards Red.
She knelt beside another soldier with a gaping wound in his abdomen, her hands covered in blood up to her elbows as she tried to stem the flow of blood.
I looked over at the guy, his abdomen ripped open, intestines spilling out, glistening in the harsh fluorescent light. Red shoved gauze into the wound, trying to push the guy’s guts back inside and close the wound.
“Keep pressure on this,” she yelled at the nurse beside her.
We dumped the legless soldier next to her, and she didn’t miss a beat, barking orders like a goddamn machine.
“Get me more IV fluids! And find the morphine!”
I barely had time to breathe before Pyro and I were off again, searching the room for the next poor bastard about to kick the bucket.
We found a guy whose face was half blown off, his eye hanging out of his head like a fucking yo-yo. He was still conscious, choking on his own blood, making these horrible wet gurgling noises. We got him to another medic, who immediately started working on getting an airway established.
Everywhere I looked, there was carnage. A guy holding his own intestines, trembling like he was holding onto his life.Another had a piece of shrapnel lodged in his throat, gurgling and choking on his own blood, his eyes bulging like he knew death was coming.
The medics were doing their best, but there were too many bodies and not enough hands.
Pyro and I dragged another soldier—a young kid, barely old enough to shave with half his face blown off. His eye was gone, just this red, pulpy hole, and he was screaming like a trapped animal, clawing at the air.
“Help me! Oh God, help me!” he shrieked.
“Fuck,” Pyro muttered. “This kid ain’t gonna make it.”
“We don’t leave anyone behind,” I snapped. “Grab him.”
We lifted the kid, his blood soaking us as we carried him over to Red. She took one look at him and swore under her breath.
“Get him on oxygen,” she ordered one of the nurses. “And get me a trauma kit, now!”
We laid the kid down, his body convulsing, and Red got to work, but I knew the poor bastard wasn’t making it out of here alive.
“Lieutenant, we need more hands over here!” someone shouted, and I turned to see another medic struggling to control the bleeding from a massive head wound.
I rushed over, applying pressure on the wound while the medic worked to secure a bandage. The guy’s skull was wide open, a sickening glimpse of white bone beneath the blood and tissue.