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Some
indefinite time later, Saunders drifted back to consciousness.
He was being jolted along, probably in a makeshift ambulance, and
for the moment his whole body felt cold and numb.
He felt Doc checking his pulse, pulling the blanket up tighter
around his shoulders, doing whatever he could to ease suffering. Saunders'
mind wandered back to the winter he was twelve and had almost died of
pneumonia, when such a raging fever had burned through his body that
nothing had relieved it. Nothing... until as a last resort, the doctor had told his
family to wrap him in sheets soaked in ice water.
He still remembered those hellish hours. How he'd ached so much from shivering that he'd begged his
mother through clenched teeth to at least give him a blanket, so he
wouldn't freeze to death. She'd
wept bitterly even as she followed the doctor's orders, sitting beside
him all night, soothing him as she caressed his face, her gentle hands
the only comfort in his frozen, feverish world. Doc's
square competent hands were nothing like his mother's delicate fingers,
but he had the same tenderness, the same calming touch, the same ability
to hold pain and death at bay when all other remedies failed.
He struggled to open his eyes, staring into Doc's worried face. “Just
try to hold on a little longer, Sarge.” Doc
caught Saunders' intense blue gaze resting on him, with that momentary
calm and clarity that sometimes came in extremis before a patient
lapsed into a final coma and death. “Take
care of the others, Doc.” “Just
take it easy. It won't be
long now till we get you to proper help.” Saunders
coughed, a bloody froth showing at the corner of his mouth.
“Tell Caje... he's in charge.
He can... trust the major... but not too far.
He needs fighters... and he's seen... how good... the squad
is.” Doc
answered sharply, “Tell him yourself.
We're not goin' anywhere without you.” Saunders'
legendary temper flared as he gave a weak snarl, “Don't be a fool.
I‘m done... but get the men back... as soon as the major can
open the gate.” “We're
not leaving without you, Sarge.” Saunders
gave him that extremely patient look he only used when one of the squad
made a particularly stupid mistake, “You know... I'm not going to make
it... but the squad has to get back....” His
urgency triggered another coughing spell that left him weak and
breathless, and Doc tried to calm the noncom without openly lying to
him. “We'll make it back,
Sarge. All of us.
We're not leavin' you behind.” to
be continued...
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