Chapter 457
[ 486 words ]
Chapter 457:
Without another moment of hesitation, she swung her legs off the cot. She found her own dust-covered scrubs folded neatly on a crate. She pulled them on, the familiar fabric a comfort, a uniform of purpose. She took a deep breath, pushed open the tent flap, and walked out into the chaotic light of morning.
The makeshift medical center was a scene of organized chaos. Wounded people lay on cots lined up in rows, and the medical staff moved between them like a swarm of determined bees.
She spotted Brenna and her mentor, Dr. Julian Croft, working on a patient with a severe leg injury. She walked right up to them.
“What can I do to help?”
They both looked up, their faces a mixture of shock and disbelief.
𝖢h𝘪ոe𝘀𝖾 ոo𝗏e𝗹𝘀 tr𝖺𝗇𝘀𝗅𝘢te𝖽 оn g𝖺𝗹𝗇о𝘃𝘦𝗅𝘴.c𝗼m
“Caroline,” Dr. Croft said, his voice stern with concern. “You should be resting. You’re a patient.”
She shook her head, her gaze sweeping over the rows of injured, her resolve hardening into steel. “I’ve rested enough. You need me here.”
Dr. Croft studied her face, saw the unshakable determination in her eyes, and let out a weary sigh of defeat. “Fine,” he relented, his tone still laced with worry. “But you stick to simple dressings and triage. The second you feel dizzy, you stop. Understood?”
“Understood,” Caroline said, a wave of gratitude washing over her. She immediately grabbed a set of sterile gloves and went to work.
The familiar rhythm of the tasks calmed her. She moved from cot to cot, her hands steady as she cleaned wounds, sorted patients by urgency, passed supplies, and talked the injured through their panic in a low, reassuring voice. She did not touch anything beyond her strength, and she did not pretend she was fully recovered. Her movements were efficient, precise, and devoid of wasted motion. Brenna, assisting at a nearby cot, watched her with a mixture of awe and concern.
“You’re an absolute workaholic,” Brenna muttered as they crossed paths near the supply station.
Caroline offered a tired smile. “It’s better than thinking.”
Across the crowded tent, Dr. Evelyn Reed, the lead military physician, observed Caroline’s work. She saw the skill, the unflappable calm under pressure. A look of complex, professional respect crossed her face.
After treating half a dozen patients in a row, Caroline’s supply of sterile gauze ran out. She headed toward the back of the tent, where boxes of medical supplies were stacked on metal shelves. She had been running on pure adrenaline and purpose, but now the physical toll of her ordeal began to catch up with her. Standing for so long, concentrating so intensely, was too much for her still-recovering body.
A wave of dizziness washed over her. The bright lights of the medical tent swam, and black spots danced in her vision. Her knees buckled. The world tilted sideways, and she felt herself falling, her hand reaching out instinctively for the metal shelving to steady herself.
She was going to hit the floor.
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