Call Me Judah: A Short Story Part ll

Part ll

Even while floating on darkness I could feel the pain. I knew sleep would not let me forget it, and I knew it would chase me to the grave. 

What am I saying? I have to survive. I have to live!

When I finally opened my eyes, I saw nothing; I panicked. I was left not only with pain, but I was also blind. I began groping, reaching for something, anything! Strong but small hands held me still. I was forced to relax, the panic inside me growing. Gradually, however, my sight returned and, with it, my sanity. I was looking into the eyes of a young soldier, barely 15 years old. He must be the nurse of this ward, a drummer boy taken off duty to help the wounded. As I lay there, gasping for breath, my memory began to trickle back slowly: The hill…The bullet... Judah.

Judah! Why hadn’t I thought of him before? I could see the moon outside of the tent where I was lying, but no sign of my friend. I called for him, but my voice cracked.

The nurse brought a canteen to my lips. I had barely begun to drink when he took it away and left me coughing over the little he gave me. The water did little to quench the fire that was alive in my throat. I begged him, in a voice so quiet and shallow he had to lean in to hear to help me find my friend, but he ignored me and moved to the man on the cot to my left. He was young, no older than I, with a bloody bandage on his head. It seemed like his face, from cheekbone to ear were torn to shreds.

Another man, across from me, was now receiving water from the boy. He seemed older, possibly 30 years. He seemed to be unconscious, but I could see that his lower left calf was missing under the blanket that covered his shaking body.

Even another man was moaning to my right. He seemed to have fever, and a doctor standing there told him he might survive if he made it through tonight. I heard the word pneumonia.

I shuddered. If only Judah were here, I’d be able to find the strength to survive in this horrid place. I had to find him, had to make sure he was still alive. Who knows how long I'd been lying here? He could've run into another battle and...No, I can't think about that. I turned my attention to my own wound. I had to make sure my worst fear wasn't a reality: I had to make sure they hadn't taken my arm off.

I turned my head slowly to look upon my shoulder. My head already pounded from following the water-boy across the small tent; all I wanted to do was sleep. But I had to know. I had heard those doctors say before surgery that I probably wouldn’t survive. Now was my chance to learn my fate.

I slowly looked down, preparing for the worst.