Page 46 of Of Sins and Sacrifice

“I’ve been working for the past three years at a small clinic just outside of London. We’ve been caring for the people affected by the Blitz who did not get immediate medical attention,” I lie again—an outrageous lie. I hold my breath, waiting for them to call me out on it, but it doesn’t happen. They just nod along.

“That is good. We are looking for nurses with practical experience.”

I smile.

“Here is your slip with your number. Keep it and wait for it to be called.”

“Called? For what?”

“There will be a practical and theoretical exam. It shouldn’t be hard for someone with your experience. We just want to ensure we hire the best, given the turnout.”

Right, my experience.

“Thank you,” I say as I accept the slip of paper.

Gazing down, I note my number is fifty-eight.

There are fifty-seven females before me, and who knows how many after. I’ll never get this job, will I?

I dejectedly make my way out of the building and look around for somewhere to sit down while I wait—and devise a new plan.

My muscles are aching, and I’m so tired my eyes are almost closing. Yet I can’t afford to let this puny body betray me like this.

No! I will get this job, I will eat, and then I will get a bed to sleep in.

How I will do that? Well, I’ll have to think some more.

The line to the registration seems never-ending as more females join in, which makes the competition for those positions more fierce.

If only I had my powers… Alas, if I did, I would not be here, ready to beg for some scraps of food.

And speaking of food…

I close my eyes and inhale deeply as the smell of food wafts toward me. It’s coming from one of the buildings.

Before I can even think about it, my feet take me to the origin of the scent. The main room of the building is empty. But judging by the rows of tables and seats, this must be the cantina. That means the kitchens must be around, too.

A few airmen walk around, and I quickly hide so I don’t get caught.

Now that the smell has infiltrated my brain, I do not think I can stop.

I round the building a few times until I find a small door. Pulling it half-open, I gaze inside.

It’s the kitchen!

Two males wearing aprons are chatting around as they prepare astronomical amounts of food.

There are maybe three or four huge pots on the makeshift stove, their contents simmering and releasing more of that mouthwatering aroma. To the right, there are six, or perhaps eight, trays laid one on top of the other. I strain to make out the contents and my stomach makes a loud noise when I see the meat lined up on the top tray—probably fresh from the oven.

There’s bread too. So much bread. Surely they wouldn’t miss a little, no? But I doubt they would just give it to me if I asked. I’d more than likely get kicked out for wandering where I’m not supposed to. Perhaps I’d even be punished since they might think I’m trying to do something nefarious like poison the food.

Okay, so asking is out of the question. That leaves…stealing.

Good grief! How low I’ve fallen. But food is food, so I will deal with my conscience later.

Surreptitiously opening my bag, I take out my carefully wrapped last resort.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “You’re already dead, so you won’t suffer.”

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