A Calling To Duty
by Linda B.
Lieutenant Hanley gasped and swore as flesh rendered open and blood spilled onto the map he’s been studying with Sergeant Saunders.
Saunders took one look at the bleeding wound. “Medic!” he yelled, unable to keep the urgency from his voice.
“Saunders…” protested Hanley as the sergeant put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “ I…”
“Shush, Lieutenant; Doc’ll be here soon. He and the squad are across the street waitin’ for me.”
They both flinched as the solid wooden door, burst open by their summoned medic, slammed against the wall. Dust trickled from the ceiling onto the medic’s helmet and shoulders as he immediately assessed the situation.
“Help him, Doc,” pleaded Saunders.
With his medical rucksack clutched against his thigh and a determined look on his face, Doc hurried to the wounded man. He flung his bag onto the table, not concerned as papers, maps and pencils scattered onto the floor and inspected the wound. “Sorry.”
Horrified, Doc slowly lifted his head and looked at his sergeant. Their worried eyes met across their wounded officer as he slumped in the elegant antique chair. He was perspiring heavily – they all were.
Hanley and Saunders looked on helplessly as Doc quickly rummaged through his medical supplies. “Doc…”
“I don’t know if I’ve anything that can help.”
“You’ve got to have something…use anything to stop the bleeding, Doc. He… he might…”
“All right, that’s enough,” muttered Hanley. The officer struggled against his two men, pushing them both away.
Saunders shook his head “But you’re bleeding…”
“I’ve found it,” cried Doc, as he held up the small plaster. He quickly ripped the protective covering off the dressing and wrapped it around the injury.
“Cut it out, you two; it’s only a paper cut.”
“And a nasty paper cut it is, Lieutenant,” grinned Saunders as he and Doc inspected the neatly plastered finger.
“You might have bled to death if Sarge hadn’t called me.”
Hanley pulled his hand free and pointed to the door. “I doubt it, Doc – now both of you get out of here.”
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